Into Thin Air
by Miss Shannon
Summary: Sequel to Vanished- Five years after the fall of the Centre Jarod and Miss Parker have moved on with their lives but are reminded of past events when tragedy strikes again... finally complete!
1. Part One

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Into thin air**

_Sequel to Vanished_

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**Part One**

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**Charles Baxter**

The district attorney was one tough lady. She had been hard on every witness in the cross examination and well, let's face it, it didn't look good for me.

Her closing was quite smashing as well and one look at my sorry excuse for an attorney confirmed that I was indeed gutted.

Well, that was one reason to simply lean back and enjoy her last big appearance, wasn't it? And I am talking appearance. It wasn't that I was keen on listening to her recounting once again why I was guilty as the devil and belonged behind bars for a very long time.

Although she was talking in a very elaborated way and did one hell of a good job – I know what I am talking about, I've been on trial dozens of times – it were those longs legs she was pacing on in front of the jury that caught my interest.

Long, slim and perfect- just the way I like it. You know, I didn't blame her for trying to put me behind bars. Been there quite a few times already. It usually doesn't take long for my pals to get me out one way or another. If I had actually done all of the time I have been sentenced to, I would be in prison until judgment day.

Anyway, I stared at her slender legs and the high pointed black heels she was wearing with her tight outfit. Although the skirt was modest and ended just above her knee, it looked racy on her.

She had probably picked her hottest outfit for the last day of trial to confuse male jury members. Pointless, though, since her closing alone was good enough to make them lynch anyone who dared to speak out in my favor back in the jury room. That decision would probably be made within ten minutes.

I was silently wondering whether I should offer my dumb lawyer a bet, but then – at last – something interesting happened.

The district attorney paused and at first – given the fact that I hadn't been listening to anything she'd said during the last five minutes – I believed that she was pausing for effect, but then she touched her forehead and started swaying.

Another little show for effect? Hardly.

Then she grabbed the sidebar. Ha- great. A nice change from the usual "Can I have a sidebar, please?".

She lost her footing, high heeled shoes and all sliding away to one side while the delicious rest of her made uncomfortable contact with the floor.

The bailiff was on his feet before anyone else was and kneeled down next to her, feeling for her pulse.

And that was that. The court was adjourned and I sincerely hoped to see her back the next time. When I would come in with a lawyer more capable than the one I had now- hopefully.

**Jean Baker**

I had seen my share of worried husbands and this one would have been as good as any, hadn't he been that good-looking. Too bad he was already married to his impossible wife.

"I need to see my wife please," he said, still polite enough to not attract my anger, but when he said his name and that of his wife, I couldn't help but purse my lips.

"Oh yes, I know who you are talking about, Sir," I told him without consulting the register and could just bite back a jolt of laughter at the look in his eyes. He was obviously used to apologizing for her.

"Is she okay?" he asked and nervously glanced towards the ER doors.

"She's fine. We have transferred her to a room. She needs a little rest right now."

And we couldn't stand her around other patients who _actually_ needed rest. What this woman needed was a muzzle.

"Can I see her now?"

"Sure."

_You're the only one who actually wants to be anywhere within a five mile radius of her... _

I pointed towards the next corridor.

"Room 1235. Beware."

He didn't even flinch at my comment, which confirmed my first assumption that he was not at all surprised by people's reactions to her.

**Jarod**

I stepped into the hospital room and found Miss Parker on the bed, her eyes closed and her feet bare. She was wearing that same outfit that she had been wearing when she had kissed me goodbye this morning on her way to court, but instead of powerful and tough she now looked rather drained and vulnerable.

"Hey…" I called softly and she opened her eyes, turning her head towards me.

"Just about time you came," she said and reached her hand out for me. I grabbed it and kissed her knuckles, then pulled her close.

"What have you been doing again?" I asked, wondering how she had managed to end up in hospital this time. One time her closing argument had been so Miss Parker style – meaning cynic and mean – that the defendant had grabbed her and tried to strangle her. I'd been sick with worry when I'd heard but when I'd arrived in hospital, I had found him far worse off than her. What was it this time?

"I fainted," she said and shook her head in embarrassment.

"Fainted?" I asked, alarmed.

Her shoulders sank. "In the middle of a closing, can you imagine? How horribly, horribly embarrassing."

I found it more worrying than anything.

"Have you eaten?"

She nodded. "You forced me, remember?"

I sat down on her bed and pulled her towards me, glad that she hadn't hurt herself worse while falling. She rested her head against my shoulder and sighed.

"I can't really remember that last moment before I fell, you know. I recall that there was something weird but I can't say what."

"Maybe you're just stressed. You've been working on too many cases at a time."

"Oh shut up," she said, but I could see that she had already spent all the energy her flaring temper gave her on the hospital staff. It had been pretty clear from the way the nurse who'd admitted her had looked at me when I'd said her name. I usually choose to ignore people's animosities towards my wife because there isn't much I can do against them.

"Where's Sammy?" she asked.

"I asked Sydney to pick her up after preschool."

Parker sank back into the pillows and looked at our now entwined hands.

"It sucks to faint in court," she said, gloomily. "I only regained consciousness when I came back here. Damn. I was so proud of all of the lawyers being afraid of me."

I chuckled. "They'll still be."

She shook her head. "Not if word goes round that I tried to grab the sidebar and then hit the floor. This will be the subject of millions of terrible jokes, believe me."

"Nah, take a few days off and you'll be back with a vengeance."

"Take a few days off? Are you mad? Not with the mountain of paperwork on my…"

She was interrupted by a doctor young enough to still be an intern who stepped in and smiled. Parker was known to pick up on other people's insecurities immediately, but she was usually softer in my presence. So she didn't snap at him, but simply raised an eyebrow.

"Now, can I take her home?" I opted for a forced cheerful tone to make up for her moody reaction although I knew that she hated it when I did that.

"You can. I just need to deliver the test results."

"Am I going to die?" she asked in an annoyed tone, dripping with sarcasm. The intern took it well although there definitely was a moment of confusion.

"Not that I knew of," he responded. "You're pregnant, Mrs. Parker."

"_Miss_ Parker," she corrected and he began to flip through his chart. "I thought you were…"

But I had long stopped listening when he found out that she was married, ignorant of the fact that she still preferred to be called "Miss Parker".

I wrapped my arms around her and, with all the confusion in my mind, thought back to the last time I had been told that she was pregnant. It hadn't been a happy moment at all, because I had been shaken and feeling betrayed by her.

Now it was entirely different. I had a family with Miss Parker and our daughter Samantha and an addition to that family was very welcome. It also explained her fainting and relieved me of my worry for my wife's health.

The intern stood next to the door, looking down at his shoes and I contemplated waving him away for a moment, but then just closed my eyes and enjoyed Parker's closeness. We were very busy with our jobs lately and with spending quality time with our daughter we didn't have as much of each other as we wanted to.

When I finally let her go, the intern cleared his throat.

"Well, Miss Parker, you are already eleven weeks along."

"And we didn't notice. I told you you were working too much."

* * *

Parker and I looked at each other when I stopped our car in the driveway and I leaned over to give her a kiss before we got out. She returned it weakly, which I appointed to her exhaustion.

"I can't believe it," I finally choked out and pulled her close as far as it is possible in a car.

"Oh, I can. I told you we weren't careful enough." Her voice sounded a bit strained and I only now realized that she had been uncharacteristically quiet on the way home. With that my whole excitement was vaporized at once.

I reached for her hand and gently squeezed it.

"You're not as happy as I am, are you?"

Over the last years we had gradually learned to avoid conflicts by means of simply addressing issues instead of tiptoeing around our problems. She took a deep breath.

"I just got my career underway again. It will be a bit of a stretch to manage another child. I already feel like I should spend more time with Sammy."

I immediately knew that, although she might be worrying about that fact, too, she was keeping something from me.

"What is it, really?" I asked her, desperately wishing that very moment that we had pet names for each other just so I would have another means to express to her how tenderly I felt about her and that she didn't have any reason to keep secrets from me.

"The Centre," she replied after a long silence.

"They're gone, Parker."

"What if they're not?"

She still regularly woke up screaming from nightmares about that place. It had shown me how much more tormented she was by it than me although she had worked for them and I was the one who had been their prisoner.

"Project Cassandra died with Raines and Lyle. You don't need to be afraid."

"I am not afraid." Her eyes were blazing with determination again and I couldn't help but wonder why it had taken me that long to fall in love with her back then.

"There's something else."

I looked at her in silence, aware of the fact that she would come around herself without me asking rhetorically. I could see the pain in her eyes and wondered whether she didn't actually want another baby. She had said more than once that she wasn't meant to be a mother when she had first been pregnant. But she had always been perfect with our daughter Samantha, who was a bright and happy child. There was no reason for her to still question her abilities as a parent.

"It's the anniversary of my miscarriage today. It is a curious feeling. It feels almost like a warning."

She gently rested her hand on her stomach and allowed me to fully look into her eyes. "I just feel that something is wrong, Jarod."

In retrospect I now understood the anxious look in her eyes while the doctor had examined her. She had probably expected him to tell her something was wrong all along.

"Don't worry, Parker. We will take care of the baby and we won't allow anything to happen."

"What if it is out of our hands?"

I looked down at said hands, hers covering her lower abdomen, mine covering hers.

"I didn't even notice I was pregnant. What kind of mother does that make me?"

She wasn't one to whine and her voice sounded firm and steady, which only gave the self-accusation more weight.

"Stop beating yourself up. You are a good mother to Sammy and you know that. Given your background, you should be doing all kinds of things wrong, but you never have."

Miss Parker closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them again and looked at me with a bit of relief.

"Maybe we can make this work."

**Miss Parker**

Jarod had put his arm around my shoulder and we walked up the driveway, close to each other. I breathed in his scent and was about to steal a kiss when we were interrupted by the voice of our neighbor. She was a pretty woman in her thirties- the hip type that was not exactly classy but always dressed perkily in bright colors. She was the type of woman who owned a strange fluffy breed of dog and greeted her equally stylish husband with an ipod in her ears, bouncing up and down by the mailbox. In other words: She was exactly the sort of person I detested.

Her shrieks that had deprived me of a tender kiss from my husband ringing in my ears, I turned to face her garden over the fence.

She was standing right in the middle of it, lamenting to a police officer and I wondered whether that was some trashy stunt for attention, but then found real tears on her cheeks.

"He was playing in the garden! I only went inside to answer the phone…" she sobbed and with a pang of guilt I realized that something horrible must have happened.

When Jarod's grip around my waist tightened, I realized that he, too, was selfishly thinking about our own child right now.

"Sir, Ma'am, can you join us for a moment?" the officer called and we obediently walked over to them.

"Mrs Hanson's son, Donald, has been missing for seven hours."

My heart seemed to contract at the thought of the missing child. Donald was a five year old, strawberry blond little boy whose delighted grin made him the sunshine of the neighborhood while Samantha was more like me, a bit reserved and shy while she seemed to have inherited her father's sense of humor.

Linda Hanson was crying for real now and the devastated look of the officer told me that he expected me, as the only woman present, to comfort her. Unfortunately my people skills hadn't exactly improved with my job as a prosecutor. So I touched her shoulder and started to mumble platitudes, all the time wishing that I could be of real help.

"Do you think she was kidnapped?" Jarod asked and I knew that he was pretty close to switching to pretender mode. His job as a doctor in a nearby hospital and his giving up his nomad lifestyle didn't allow for pretends anymore, although I was strongly suspecting him of using his two weeks vacation a year that he allegedly spent fishing with Sydney to help some poor soul instead. He thought that I didn't suspect a thing, but even I could see that he didn't even know how to hold a fishing-pole.

"We don't know yet, Sir. Have you been away all day?"

I saw Jarod's eyes light up briefly and immediately knew that he was about to tell the officer what he had learned today, so I stopped him. It didn't matter now and would certainly not benefit Linda to find out that we were expecting another child.

Linda's husband Jeff joined us, pale as a sheet and nodded at me absently.

"I've called all his friends in the area. They haven't seen him."

"We will probably come by for further investigation," the officer told us, obviously meaning for us to go away.

"Call us anytime you need anything, okay?" I told Linda and she nodded tearfully, squeezing my hand back.

When we were back in our house, Jarod closed the door behind us and placed a kiss on my forehead.

"How horrible," I said. "I can't imagine how terrible it would be to…" I was interrupted by sounds coming from the kitchen. Sydney and Samantha seemed to be banging cupboard doors and I could hear the distinctive sound of something sizzling in a pan. Our house was warm and inviting and I even felt moved by some of Sammy's toys that she had left in the hallway although I always told her not to.

I picked up the little pink toy pig and followed Jarod into the kitchen. We paused at the door before we opened it and I touched Jarod's hip gently. "Please don't tell her yet, okay?"

He turned around, looking puzzled. "Why not? She'll be over the moon to have a sibling. You know how much she's always wanted one."

I nodded, trying not to look evasive. "Jarod, all sorts of things can happen. I wouldn't want her upset if I… if I…" I cleared my throat. "If anything would happen to the baby."

He nodded, accepting my request and led me into the kitchen.

Sammy was sitting at the counter, watching Sydney prepare what smelled like his famous chicken curry at the stove that was located in the middle of the spacious kitchen. Although I rarely cooked anything more fancy than peas and carrots, I loved the room that was separated from the large living room only by a long counter. The windows overlooked the nearby lake that now lay perfectly still in the last glow of the evening sun.

Sammy looked up at the sound of the door opening and especially with the impression of what I had just witnessed, my heart surged at the sight of her. She had blue eyes, a little darker than mine and very dark hair that reached down to her shoulders. Although she was still so young and a bit clumsy at times, she carried herself with a certain grace that Jarod appointed to her watching me move around. I saw Jarod's radiant smile on her face as she approached and threw her arms around me.

"Mommy! How did your trial go?"

"Ummm… great." I said, giving a thankful look to Sydney who had obviously deemed it better not to upset her by telling her that I had been rushed to hospital. Sydney came towards us, too, drying his hands on a towel.

Years ago we had all opted to move away from Blue Cove that had held too many bad memories for all of us. Still we felt like family and so he had followed us to the outskirts of Washington, D.C. like Broots, who now worked for the Ministry of Defense as a computer specialist.

He hugged first Jarod, then me, as he always did when he saw us. Given the fact that he was around for dinner at least once a week, I received many hugs from him lately. When we had still been a team chasing Jarod, this would have been unthinkable- him, hugging me and kissing my cheek. I might have broken his arm. Now it had become normal, just like many other things.

"Daddy, I can show you something I drew today! I drew you and Kenny today!" Sammy exclaimed and grabbed Jarod's hand to pull him upstairs. He grinned and shrugged, then gave in and followed her upstairs so Sydney and I were left to our own devices.

"You look pale, Parker. What is wrong?" he addressed it immediately.

"I fainted in court," I admitted and held up a hand. "Do not worry, okay? I know why. I'm pregnant."

A huge grin formed on Sydney's lips and he dropped the spoon that he had used to stir the chicken and approached me, hugging me once again. "That's wonderful news! Congratulations!"

"Thank you," I murmured, feeling ashamed of the feeling of foreboding that began to plague me once again. While he couldn't see it because he was still holding me, I rubbed my stomach gently, imagining the tiny life inside. Something was wrong, I could feel it. I didn't know why but I was convinced that I was in for pain and heartache. I thought about Linda who must be going insane at the notion that some criminal had taken hold of her son and I swallowed, knowing that I would, too, be devastated with the loss of a life I had only learned of today.

"How far along are you?" Sydney asked as enthusiastically as if the baby was his grandchild by blood.

"Eleven weeks," I replied, suddenly more worried than before. I had been pregnant for almost three months without noticing, putting myself through periods of less than five hours of sleep a night, long days at the office and endless attempts to manage household chores while I should have been resting in the weekends. What if it was my fault that something was wrong? I could feel my throat contract already and Sydney's concerned "Parker?" was nearly lost on me while I stumbled backwards against the counter, holding on to it for dear life.

Then the feeling of dread subsided and I found myself suddenly fighting a violent nausea. Another pregnancy symptom I had chosen to ignore. Breathing in deeply, I was glad for Sydney's arm that steadied me. A moment later I found myself on the couch, looking into his kind eyes.

"What is wrong with you, Parker?" he asked, not inquisitively but calmly and somewhat radiating wisdom. I had often taunted him for that attitude when we had still been working for the Centre, but today I was grateful for it.

"Syd, I think I am having those…" I trailed off. How was I to call it? Visions? No, I didn't have any of those, but I had foreboding feelings and I knew I could trust them.

"You mean you're as perceptive as you were during your last pregnancy?"

I nodded, relieved that he had understood so quickly what I meant.

"Exactly. I cannot really tell Jarod, but I have a bad feeling about the baby. I… I am afraid something's wrong with this pregnancy."

**TBC**


	2. Part Two

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**Part Two

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**Miss Parker**

As we all know, I am not exactly one to make friends easily. Okay, let's face it, I have never been known to make any friends at all. That is why it felt spectacular every time I walked into that bar called "Notorious" and was greeted by a friendly cheer from the impeccably dressed woman that had been calling herself my friend for a little over two years now.

She hadn't spotted me right away this time and as I approached her, I felt the icy lump inside my throat slowly melt away. Christine was tall and slender and the perfect helmet of light-brown hair on her head had been groomed to perfection. She had crossed her legs on the stool by the bar and looked fabulous in a velvet suit and white blouse. I still had to smile when I remembered our first meeting on a bench in the park not far from my house. I had been sitting there with Sam who had just learned to talk and kept firing questions at me that I did my best to answer. I had never been patient with children, but when they are your own and you're somewhat crazy about them, you gradually learn that patience.

Christine had been sitting on the bench opposite me in a suit, wearing giant Dior sunglasses that reflected the brilliant sunlight back at me and texting away on an expensive-looking cell-phone.

"Mommy, why does the woman look so mean?" Sam had asked in a loud and clear voice that could probably be heard in the outskirts of Scotland. I had been embarrassed at first, but had then resigned myself to answering, but Christine had reacted more quickly.

"Honey. I eat children. Are you expecting me to smile serenely?"

There had been a loud silence for a moment and Sam had crunched her little face up to cry. I had known enough about the other young mothers (whom I detested by the way) to know that I was supposed to leap to my feet and march over to give her a passionate speech about how little children were our future and how evil it was of her to scare the adorable apple of my eye. Instead I had kissed Sam's head gently and had burst into roaring laughter.

Christine had been taken aback for a moment, unsure what to make of me and later she had explained that she had only then realized that I could not be the impertinent mother hen she had mistaken me for. Taking in my black suit and expensive earrings she had grinned appreciatively and then walked over to me. Still in silence, probably listening to my hysterical laughter she had taken a seat next to me and Sam and pulled her sunglasses down onto the top of her nose.

"I like you," she'd said and that was that.

"Darling!" she yelled now, heads turning across the room. "I am over here. Bartender, give that woman a nice martini and make it strong enough to kill a horse so she'll feel anything at all."

To be honest, I was devastated that I would have to be forced to decline that offer. Sipping martinis with Christine had become one of my favorite pastimes. She blew a kiss at me and gave me a beaming smile. Being a good decade older than me she was even richer than I was thanks to several bank accounts that were the more enjoyable legacy of the evil that the Centre had been. Having married rich at a young age she had lived with her broker husband and raised their son only to discover him in bed - or rather on the desk- with his secretary one night. To make a long story short: She now received more alimony than she could spend while he drove a battered old sedan and compared prices at Wall Mart. Or at least that was what she had told me.

"You look pale! Add more vodka." While she was giving the barman instructions, I made myself comfortable on the bar stool and enjoyed the fact that my best friend was just as sarcastic and fearless as I was.

To be honest, Jarod had been worried sick about my staying away from all the other young mothers that he deemed completely adorable. So when I had told him that I had made a friend, he had been over the moon. A feeling that had quickly subsided when he'd first met Christine who had called him a "cutie" and then inquired about the contents of our liquor cabinet. Later when she had gone, he had shrugged and put his arms around me, somewhat resigned.

"So? How do you like her?" I had asked him, teasingly.

"Well... She's quite nice. But she's..." he had trailed off and only continued when I'd urged him to. "She's so much like you."

"I take it you like her then."

"Well. Yes. But I had hoped you'd met somebody who'd have a positive influence on you."

Maybe back then he had still hoped I would return to the rather sweet ways of my amnesiac self, but of course he had been mistaken. After a while he had begun to cherish her sarcastic humor and our entertaining interaction just as much as I did and sometimes called us a sitcom.

"Now, what." Christine slid a nasty looking drink across the bar and gestured towards a free table at the other end of the room. "Tell me all about the trial. Did you ground his sorry ass?"

"We had to adjourn," I told her, grabbing the drink and heading over to the table.

"Adjourn? Why for god's sake? Was he in tears?" She took a generous sip of her drink and obviously waited for me to do the same. I toasted her weakly, then set the glass down.

"I sort of blew it."

Christine gave a sharp laugh. "You never blow anything, Darling. Well... at least not in the _court_room." Her laughter was even more obscene than her comment and shook my head, smiling beside myself.

"Nah. I fainted."

"Oh! Did you hit your head on the judge?" Before I could react to her insensitivity, she reached over the table and gave me a stern look. "Are you okay, pal? You do know you don't need to work so much, don't you?"

"Of course. It wasn't about work. Christine. I'm pregnant."

There was a short silence in which Christine kept her eyes looked with mine, then began to shake her head. "For god's sake, Parker!"

Before I knew it, she had grabbed the martini glass and pulled it towards her.

"You really shouldn't drink."

As if I had been about to!

"And why wouldn't she? Hangover?" I looked up and looked into the face of my second partner in crime. Two girlfriends in two years! Jarod hadn't been able to believe it and had been just as expectant as he had been when we'd first invited Christine over, when Val had barged in and demanded beer. His disappointment had been just as great.

"Not at all. She's having a baby!" Christine exclaimed in a stage actor's booming voice, causing a couple of people to toast us.

"Ah," Val lowered her bulky frame onto the chair and toyed with her bottled beer. The only German brand they sold.

"So soon enough I won't be able to call you Skinny anymore?"

Her deep throaty voice had all the characteristics of a good old Scotch and her kind brown eyes that looked from rather bushy eyebrows scrutinized me without being obtrusive. Gradually, I managed to let go of the fear I had been feeling all day and relaxed to the comforting presence of my friends.

"You may always call me Skinny, Val."

Val was my boss at work. Fifty years old, British, six feet tall and everything but anorexic, Val possessed many qualities of a big brother. She liked soccer, German beer and - quite curiously - Sex and the City. While looking robust, she was one of the most caring people I had ever met, although she only showed that side of her to a few select friends.

Val had transferred to D.C. only a year ago and had marched into my office right away, to set me straight about a strategy I had been meaning to pursue during trial that day.

"Well, you can't be serious!" she had called, her strong deep strong voice seeming exceptionally loud. "There is no way you'll get that bastard in jail that way!"

Without introducing herself or waiting for me to react, she had thrown herself into the chair opposite my desk, gestured at the file and had scrunched up her face in something that looked like disgust.

"Look, Skinny, if you had taken the time to read the file while you got your nails done..." she had shot a pointed look at my hand and I'd had a hard time not pulling it from her view. "... you would have noticed that this particular jury is a bitch for your cause."

Aware of the fact that nobody but a superior would dare to talk to me like that, I had raised an eyebrow at my new boss.

"Then you listen to me..." I had paused for effect, enjoying the prospect of a fit opponent. "... not-so-Skinny: This is my courtroom and I know how to deal with a trial, okay? And if you ever got your nails done..." Pointed look on my behalf. "You would have had time to read the file properly. There is a good chance to achieve my goal."

Val had flipped a few pages, found the page I had indicated and had given a roaring jolt of laughter. "Well, well, Skinny. Let's see how it turns out. A beer on me if it works."

I had gotten my beer. And a few shots of Scotch. When I had shown up at home, tipsy enough to start giggling at the sight of Jarod's stern face, I had known I'd made a new friend.

Now my two friends were sitting opposite me, as different as actually possible at the outside, but both equally smart, sharp-witted and loving at the inside. I suddenly felt like bursting into tears.

"You won't be able to drink for nine months." Christine looked gloomy. "That will be me and beer-woman on our own round here."

"Don't be silly," I managed to choke out. "I'll just have soft drinks."

"It will not be the same," Christine sulked, indicating our always funny slightly intoxicated taxi rides home that regularly made the cabbies want to hand in their resignations.

"Lighten up, Chrissie," Val comforted her in a sarcastic yet good-natured grumble. "She can always have nonalcoholic cocktails and pretend to be drunk."

I shook my head, thankfully almost over my tearful moment. I wondered whether I should tell them about my worries or just try to enjoy the evening as it was.

"I am almost three months along, anyway. It will only be half a year that you will have to refrain from ordering martinis for me."

"So that's with the fainting in the courtroom." Val grinned. "Classic moment, Skinny. You're what everyone is talking about."

"Well, great." I sighed. "From now on I will be Mommy who fainted in the courtroom to all these young lawyers I have spent years on to terrify."

Val patted my hand. "Life is hard, Darling. Start anew. It's fun. I asked your clerk to look after you a bit. Make sure you eat and always have water around, things like that."

"You did _what_?" I asked, immediately furious with her. "You can't be serious! On what grounds...?"

"Told him you were pregnant."

"Well, how would you know?"

"I called that lovely husband of yours, silly inquiring after you and your trip to the hospital. Told me you were upstairs reading goodnight stories to your daughter, then spat it out mid-sentence. He is pretty damn excited the poor sod."

Christine sipped her martini, still not overly enthusiastic. While listening to Val you wouldn't believe that she was one of America's most brilliant lawyers but she always made me smile. Even if she had just embarrassed me in front of the young blond man I had recently started to use as a substitute for Broots whom I had loved to terrorize back at the Centre.

"Anyway, congratulations, Parker." Val grabbed my hand and squeezed it over the table. "You don't look too happy though, pal," Christine chirped in. Her voice had a wonderful silky quality when she lowered it to speak privately and it always soothed me.

"Oh, I am happy." I managed a small smile. "It's just..."

For a moment I felt lost in the memory of fainting in my office at the Centre just like I had fainted today, grabbed by Sydney instead of the bailiff, my stomach cramping and my legs suddenly blood-stained. I had been exactly eleven weeks along then, a fact I deliberately hadn't told Jarod. I remembered the scratchy sheets at the Centre infirmary and the little nurse's apologetic voice, telling me that I had had a miscarriage. I closed my eyes briefly, inhaling the air deeply and listening to the signs my body was sending. There was nothing. I didn't feel sick anymore, I wasn't in pain at all and the only feeling that came to me was a certain vigilance. When I had learned I was pregnant with Sammy, I had been shocked and frightened and unable to get to terms with any of my feelings. Now my maternal instincts were kicking in a lot faster.

"Pal? Are you alright?" I looked up into Christine's worried face and shrugged. I had never told them about my miscarriage, afraid that they would see me as weak, which I somehow couldn't bear.

"It's just that the neighbor's kid has vanished. The police think he was kidnapped."

It was true, this was a topic that also weighed down on my mood so I decided to tell them just that and not about my strange sense of foreboding.

**Jarod**

I looked up from the book I had been reading when Miss Parker exited the bathroom in her pajamas. She slid under the covers and lay on her back for a moment, eyes closed. I set the book aside and touched her arm softly. She still didn't like her face to be kissed or touched when she wasn't expecting it, so I simply wove my fingers through hers and waited for her to look at me.

She smiled when she opened her eyes and sat up to hug me.

"So I was right," I observed. "A little time with the girls did you good."

"True," she sat, the huge smile still in place. "Christine isn't too happy about my pregnancy, though, because she feels obliged to have all the martinis I won't be having."

I grinned, imagining the woman in my head. Her impeccable sense of taste, her ability to talk my wife into those short skirts I thought she had stopped wearing after landing her new job and her sarcasm came to mind. At first I hadn't really liked her. She had reminded me too much of the person Miss Parker had been at the Centre. After a while, though, I had realized that she wasn't half as bitter. The rejection from her ex-husband still stung her, but she was generally kind and, as opposed to Miss Parker, didn't comment sarcastically to hurt people, but because she simply couldn't help it.

"So you told them about the baby?" I asked and she cocked an eyebrow. "No need to tell Val! A little birdie had told her already."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I am not very fond of the whole 'I'm pregnant- be happy for me' routine anyway."

The shadow that had hung over her all through dinner crossed her face fleetingly and I was instantly worried again. The way she behaved she seemed almost resigned to the fact that something would go wrong.

"Can I put my hand on your stomach?" I asked, feeling a bit foolish, but she was still touchy about some subjects and although she had generally improved in all departments, her pregnancy seemed to enhance all the difficulties that still remained.

"If you want to." She flipped her beside lamp off and lay on her back, her arms over her head and the pillow, eyes closed and eerily silent. I decided to not be too hard on her. Even if she was a perfect mother and wonderful wife to me her insecurities were still very obvious. She refused to talk about her nightmares and during all these years that we had just grown closer and closer I had never managed to convince her to consult a psychologist about her issues.

She had never talked to anyone about who she had been at the Centre, the amnesia or the fact that her first real relationship had been staged by the Centre. There was a lot in her past that she was still struggling with and had never really spoken about. The miscarriage, her short but traumatic imprisonment at the Centre or her dysfunctional relationship with her father were just part of what still affected her. She still hurt and although she did her very best not to make her family feel it, there were a few automatic responses from her, that she probably didn't even notice.

I carefully slid my hand under her pajama top and placed it on her flat smooth stomach. She hissed quietly. "Your hand is cold."

I lay next to her and wondered whether what I was doing made her feel safe at all. She wasn't going to talk about her fears anytime soon, but I sincerely hoped that one day she would come around.

"Do you think we'll have a boy this time?" I asked into the darkness and her sleepy voice responded almost immediately: "Jarod, it's a bit too soon to wonder about that, don't you think?"

"No, I don't." I said with emphasis, hoping that she'd notice by herself that she was doing it again. The easiest way to pretend to yourself that nothing can hurt you, is distance yourself. Miss Parker did it frequently without even noticing. "I would like a boy."

She didn't answer and so I listened to her breathing for a while, sure that it sounded a bit too regular. She was pretending to be asleep.

**Val Cornwell**

Skinny looked up as I entered her office and cocked her head as - true to our little tradition - I collapsed into the chair opposite her desk without greeting and slapped a file on the overly tidy desk. I had no idea how exactly she did it since my desk always looked as if it had been hit by a tornado. It was something I would have never allowed my subordinates, but I was the emperor of chaos and could find anything.

One thing I liked about my friend was that she never asked too many questions. Instead she leaned back in her chair, folded her arms in front of her chest and waited for an explanation for my appearance.

"I had a look into the police investigation on the disappearance of your neighbor's kid," I said and she leaned forward immediately. Yep, I had caught her attention.

"Spare me your detailed account of how great your relations to the local police are this time, right, Val?"

I grinned and punched her shoulder lightly. Since my brother was at the top of the food chain there, my relationship with the local law enforcement was better than that of other district attorneys.

"Got it," I said. "It seems they are treating it as a possible crime. They're pretty convinced that he's been kidnapped."

She shook her head regretfully and I noticed that her usually pale skin looked almost ashen today. "So there hasn't been any word from the kidnappers yet?"

I nodded. We both knew what that meant. If they didn't ask for ransom, the kidnapping had either been about rape or murder.

"How is the family holding up? Jarod promised to go over there this morning, but I really haven't had time to call him yet." She took her blackberry from her hand-bag and looked at the display. There were two missed calls from Jarod and a text message from the Broots guy. Without checking on them, she threw it back.

"Not well, of course. Police is trying to keep them calm but of course it doesn't work. They had a liaison officer sent over there along with counsel."

"Do we know when exactly he was taken?" Parker asked, all prosecutor again. I could imagine what was going on in her head because it must be pretty much what was going on in mine. True to our profession we already ran scenarios and tried to calculate just for how long we would get the bastard behind bars if he was caught.

"The mother said she went inside because of a phone-call at about four o'clock. Returned ten minutes later and he had vanished."

"That sounds as if it had been planned. I don't believe anybody would just wander by and decide to grab the kid in such a short period of time."

I nodded appreciatively. "Bingo. They're looking into all kinds of relationships right now. His pre-school, friends, guitar-lessons. The whole drill. Hope they'll find a lead soon."

There was a short knock at the door and Greg Meyers, Parker's clerk, hustled in. She leaned back in her chair, menacing mask immediately in place.

"What is it?" she almost snapped and I had to hide a grin behind my hand. It was always priceless to watch her do that.

Greg came closer, his tie slightly askew, his hair a little too long and hanging into his eyes. He carried a bag in his hand and dropped it onto the table as if he was about to storm out of the office in a run.

"I brought you lunch. Noticed you hadn't had anything yet."

Watching her now was even more entertaining as her face changed from furious to touched and back in quick succession. In the end she settled for a solemn, unmoved expression.

"Thanks," she said and dismissed him with a nod.

"You know what they say about you?" I asked as soon as he had walked out and closed the door behind him.

"I am sure you'll enlighten me."

I gestured at her expensive black suit and grinned as I rose from my chair. "They say the devil wears Prada."

She raised her eyebrows and shook her head regretfully. "Amateurs," she growled. "This is Armani."

**Miss Parker**

When Val had left, I became aware of the lunch bag on the desk again. Shaking my head I consulted my watch. Was it really that late already? I had been so absorbed in paperwork and research for my next trial, that I had completely forgotten about the time.

"Four seven!?" I exclaimed when I consulted my watch. That meant I was already half an hour late to pick up Sammy from preschool. I was about to bolt for the door when I noticed Val just outside my office, pouring coffee for herself. She was a good indicator of the time, since she never had coffee after three.

I compared my watch to the clock on my computer screen and realized that it was in fact only two o'clock. Sighing, I leaned back into my chair and straightened my jacket in a tired motion, then shot up again.

My watch must have been damaged when I had hit the floor in the courtroom yesterday. I took it off and tried to get it running again, but failed. Great. That meant there was a trip to the watchmaker in store for me this afternoon.

Suddenly Val's words came back for me:

_"The mother said she went inside because of a phone-call at about four O'clock. Returned ten minutes later and he had vanished."_

Oh no!_  
_

I stared at my watch for a few minutes. Was it really possible that I had fainted right that moment when Donald had been taken by his kidnapper? I put my elbows on the desk and buried my face in my hands. There had been something at the edge of my conscious right that moment before dizziness had washed over me and I had tried to hold on to something to stay on my feet.

"_Who are you?" _Those words, spoken by a little boy's voice suddenly echoed through my mind and the feeling of dread I had been plagued by yesterday suddenly reappeared.

"_You mean you're as perceptive as you were during your last pregnancy?"_

"_Exactly."_

"Oh god, help me..."

**TBC**


	3. Part Three

* * *

**Part Three

* * *

**

**Miss Parker**

I entered the classroom and greeted the teacher by means of a casually raised hand. Miss Jenkins smiled at me and went back to helping a small boy with his drawing. The pencil in his hand looked too big for him and his face was screwed up in concentration. A jolt of pain went through me when I thought of Donald, whose spot right next to Sammy had remained empty today. Sammy got up from her table and approached me quickly, hugging me and pressing her cheek against my middle.

"Mommy!" She tugged at my blazer's sleeve. "Come and see my picture!"

She was a bit surprised when I crouched down first, pulled her towards me and gave her a firm hug, kissing her cheek at the same time.

"What's wrong?" she asked mildly puzzled but I just gave her a smile.

"Everything's fine, baby. So what about that drawing?"

I followed her to her desk, her little hand firmly in mine and looked at the drawing as requested. "Who's that?" I asked, looking down at the five people she had drawn. Two of them were a little shorter than the others and everybody was smiling under a bright sun.

She pointed at a figure in black. "That's you, Mommy. This is Daddy." He finger moved to the person next to my likeness. "This is me!" she pointed out one of the smaller figures that was dressed in pink. "And that's my little brother!"

I stared at the small figure in light-blue that stood next to Sammy, holding her hand, smiling, as a pang of shock went through me. Had Jarod not honored my request and told her about the baby already? I suddenly felt weak with the thought of how sad she would be if my hunch that something would go wrong proved to be justified.

"That's pretty, Sam. But do you have a little brother I don't know about?" I teased.

She just grinned and squeezed my hand. "No, but I will have!"

She was so happy that I didn't have the heart to spoil it for her by explaining that there were still six months and many risks to go before she could be sure about that. So I just smiled and pointed out the fifth person on the drawing.

"Now, who's that?" I asked her to steer her away from the topic of little brothers.

"That's Kenny," she explained and I shook my head. She had been talking about someone named Kenny at lengths recently, but Miss Jenkins had told me not to worry because children her age sometimes tended to have imagined friends.

"Ah, he's good-looking," I said and looked curiously at the black and white top he was wearing and the grin on his face, spiky yellow hair on his round head. She had drawn a few creases in his face which made him look old.

"Will you put it on the fridge?" she asked, eager for her work to be recognized.

"Of course," I answered and straightened up to a standing-position, feeling dizzy immediately. I really should have eaten the sandwich Greg had bought me for lunch, but I had simply forgotten due to that noon's revelation. I had promised myself to take things a little easier as not to put too much pressure on the baby, so I was pretty angry with myself now and decided to take Sammy out for cake and ice-cream to catch up on some needed calories.

She looked at me quizzically for a moment. "You okay, Mommy?"

"Perfect. Just get your jacket and your bag and we'll go to the mall for ice-cream."

Her face lit up. As wise as she sometimes seemed for her age, the prospect of sticky sweet food mesmerized her just as it did other children. She ran towards the back of the room to collect her things and left me pondering her drawing. I bent over to retrieve her colored pens and when I looked up again, Miss Jenkins had approached me quietly.

"Hi," she smiled. "Sorry for not talking to you earlier, but Max here needed my help."

"Totally understandable," I said, working hard to keep the sarcastic tone out of my voice. My rapport with Val at the office, the scaring of lawyers and the sharp-tongued closing arguments did nothing to help my dealing with other people. Jarod had once set me straight about my ways that were rather inappropriate at times and so I gave my best to be sweet to people.

"I heard about what happened to Donald," Miss Jenkins said. "It is terrible. Poor Linda must be crushed." She shrugged helplessly. "Donald drew a few pictures last week and I thought she'd maybe be happy to have them. Would you mind taking them over to her? I understand you live right next to each other."

I doubted that a reminder of happy days would benefit Linda a lot, but true to my ambition to be helpful and friendly, I nodded. "Of course, no problem."

"Thanks." She handed me two folded sheets of paper and smiled sadly. "Sammy doesn't really understand what happened. I thought I'd leave it to you to explain."

I nodded and took in her wrinkled face, the slightly frizzy graying hair and the huge glasses perched on her nose. She was truly a nice woman and I sometimes I regretted not being able to do this kind of people justice.

"You look a little pale, Miss Parker. Are you alright?" she asked me, reaching up to touch my shoulder. Before I could restrain myself, I had taken a step back and bumped into one of the desks. The little boy sitting at hit glared at me.

"I ruined my picture because of you," he sulked.

"I'm sorry." I gave him a halfhearted smile, then finally dared to look back at Miss Jenkins.

"I'm sorry, too, Miss Parker," she told me, looking half apologetic, half worried. "You don't seem to be too good at these things, dear."

I wondered whether I should be angry or hurt, but found that I was neither. She seemed to genuinely try to understand my ways and although I would never tell her why I was so bad with people, I was grateful for it.

"You're right. I'm not good at this," I replied and reached my hand out for Sammy who came running towards me, her face bright with excitement.

"Miss Jenkins! Mommy's taking me out for ice-cream!" she announced and grabbed my hand, bouncing up and down beside me.

"Looks as if we had to go now," I smiled.

"Give Linda my best. Oh, and we will have a parents' meeting Saturday night to discuss the..." she gave a pointed look to indicate that I knew what she was talking about. "...latest events. Maybe you can make it."

"I'll try," I replied although many parents in one room were anything but a nice prospect for me. Most of them didn't really like my attitude, but since they adored Jarod because of his charms, his commitment to their causes and the fact that he had a private practice for pediatrics, I would ask him to go.

Half an hour later I watched my daughter eat her way through a giant serving of vanilla ice-cream, chocolate sprinkles and strawberries. The appetite for this kind of food, her manner eating it and even the content smile on her face reminded me so much of her father, that it was almost scary. I took a sip of my water and had one of the chocolate cookies she had insisted we bought. I decided to not catch up on the paperwork I had abandoned after Val's visit after all but instead to have a decent meal and then curl up on the sofa with a book while I would have my husband massage my feet.

Said husband came walking towards us right that moment and set another awe-inspiring amount of ice-cream down on the table. I couldn't help but smile as he started munching through it in much the same way Sammy was.

If I really had a boy, I would want him to be just like Jarod, I thought, then dismissed the cheesy thought. I was becoming soft.

Jarod had noticed my gaze and misinterpreted dreaminess as appetite, so he wiggled his eyebrows. "Would you like some?"

He offered his spoon to me, but I shook my head and pointed at his bowl. He grinned back and spooned something up, ready to feed it to me. To do him a favor, I ate the ice-cream, then licked my lips.

"Thanks." I slipped out of my shoe and caressed his shin with my bare foot. Sammy was always embarrassed when we were acting like lovebirds around her, so I did my best to hide it. We both knew that I hadn't been fair last night when I had refused to open up to him, so I felt like I had to make something up to him.

"You must try mine to!" Sammy stuck out her spoon, but I held up my hand.

"No thanks, I've had enough." I returned to my cookie and my watching my family enjoying their ice-cream.

It could have been such a nice family-outing, if not for the fact that we still had to discuss a sad topic with her. I waited until they had finished their ice-cream and my cookies, then tried to catch Jarod's eye to signal him that we had to do it. He understood right away and pulled Sammy into his lap while I rounded the table and sat on the bench next to them.

"Do you know why Donald wasn't at preschool today?" I asked softly and her face immediately fell.

"No. Something bad has happened, hasn't it?"

I looked at Jarod for help. He was generally better at these things and I didn't want to be too bold and scare her.

"He has disappeared and the police are now looking for him," he explained.

"Is that why Linda is always crying now?"

"Yes," I said and put her hand on her back to comfort her. "We hope they will find him soon."

"You would cry, too, if I was gone?" Sammy asked and I felt tears welling up inside me at the mere thought of it. In many ways I was still a lot like the person I had been at the Centre, but when it came to my daughter I had become a complete and hopeless softy. Since I didn't trust my voice, I just nodded.

"Mommy can you help find Donald?" she asked now, with a pleading look in her eyes. _I can only make his abductor rot away in prison_, I thought regretfully. If he was ever caught. _Or I could use my enhanced senses and try to find him that way. _If only I knew how.

**Jarod**

Miss Parker had been meaning to read a book but had discarded it quickly after I had begun to massage her feet. "These high heels aren't good for your feet," I told her sternly while she was leaning back, eyes closed and groaning happily. She opened her eyes and gave me a dirty smile.

"But they look hot and I know you like it."

I abandoned her feet for a moment to give her a kiss and she used the opportunity to pull me towards her by my shirt-collar and deepen the kiss.

"I think my feet won't need you anymore," she whispered and wrapped her arms around me, nestling her face into my shoulder.

"I am sorry about last night," she said after a short moment of silence. "All this is just a little too much for me."

At least now whenever she returned to her old ways she noticed it and always apologized. I didn't answer but simply stroked her hair.

"I hope you don't regret getting yourself such a difficult wife."

"No, I don't. If I had wanted someone simple, I would have picked somebody else."

She smiled almost shyly and sat up next to me, her legs in my lap. "But you have something to apologize about, too."

She looked at me expectantly and I stared down at our joined hands, wondering what it was that she meant. I couldn't come up with anything so I shrugged. "What?"

"You told Sammy about the baby."

I pulled my eyebrows together, surprised by that allegation. "No, I haven't. I told you I wouldn't, so I didn't."

"That's strange. She drew a picture of our family today and when I asked her who the other kid was, she said she knew that she would have a little brother soon."

"That's strange indeed. Maybe she overheard us talking?"

"I checked on her, she was fast asleep when I got home from the night out with the girls."

"Maybe she likes to pretend to be asleep. Like her mother," I told her pointedly and she gave me a sheepish look.

"I thought you hadn't noticed."

"I notice everything, Parker. Now tell me what this is all about."

**Miss Parker**

I knew that Jarod wanted his question to be answered, but I didn't really know how. The least I wanted was to worry him and he had been so overjoyed with the news that I didn't want to ruin it for him. Still, I had already done that by trying to avoid him.

I put my hand in the back of his neck and let it rest there as if to comfort him.

"Remember last time I was pregnant, Jarod? I knew Sammy was a girl before any doctor could tell me and I think it's happening again."

He looked skeptic of what I was telling him. "What do you mean?"

I sighed, aware of the fact that it had to sound obscure to him. He hadn't been there that last time at the Centre when I had been able to open my mind so wide that I had almost been able to hear other people's thoughts. After that incident, when I had finally been allowed to leave hospital we had been very preoccupied with preparations for Sammy's arrival plus I had been weakened considerably by the smoke-poisoning. I had never experienced it again, mostly because I hadn't allowed myself to. So Jarod had never been a witness to what I had been able to do and from the way he talked about Project Cassandra, I was almost sure he thought it wasn't making any sense.

"I mean I have a very bad feeling about my pregnancy."

"So you don't want the baby?" He sounded sad and I felt frustration well up inside me.

"On the contrary, Jarod." I made him look into my eyes so he would see the honesty there. "I do want this baby so much, but I am so afraid that something will go wrong."

He took both my hands in his and looked at me intently. "We have been talking about this so often. You need to see someone about that. Look at you, you seem fine. The only thing that's dangerous to the baby is that you're winding yourself up and that you're not taking enough care of yourself in the process."

I narrowed my eyes and squeezed his hands back with a little too much force.

"You don't understand what I mean, Jarod. This is not irrational. It is not due to the fact that I haven't dealt with my past. This is very real."

He shook his head. "You had a fifty-fifty chance of knowing the baby's gender and you were very confused because of your amnesia. You can't let yourself believe that there was any scientific base for Raines' desperate plan. With the prospect of losing the Centre he probably went nuts towards the end of his life."

I realized that he had either no idea what I was talking about, or he plainly didn't believe me. I was too shocked to speak, so I simply sat there, feeling very alone. I wanted so badly to believe that he was right and that I was simply overreacting. But with what I had experienced yesterday and the many coincidences in the whole story, I feared that I was not.

He pulled me towards him and I rested my head on his shoulder while he gently stroked my back. "We'll just have lunch together more often and I make sure you're resting enough."

"Don't patronize me."

I knew my protest sounded weak since suddenly I felt extremely tired.

"Just don't worry. I'll make sure you'll both be fine."

I let him hold me and although his closeness always calmed me, I couldn't shake off the familiar sense of foreboding. For the very first time in our marriage, my husband couldn't understand what I was feeling.

**William Cornwell**

I pinched the bridge of my nose and scrunched up my eyes, reaching blindly for the bottle of water I always kept on my desk. My wife Maura kept bugging me to eat more and drink more water to avoid getting dehydrated but with the strains of a big case I almost always forgot.

Especially when a case was as painful and as close to home as this one. I quickly closed my eyes and opened them again, then shook my head to chase away the drowsiness that came from the exhaustion of a night without sleep. I had stayed at the office all night along with many colleagues, some on duty, many volunteers, to sort through the information we had gathered, double-check interview reports and look at files from offenders in the area. So far, we hadn't turned up any results.

The family was obviously not doing well. The mother was hysterical, the father stony-faced and obviously unable to give comfort to his wife. It was always sad to see these things happen and from experience I knew, that even if we managed to find the kid, their marriage might be over by the end of it. So far, the chances of finding Donald seemed to grow dimmer with every passing minute. The only comfort was that we were still within the forty-eight hours they say are the time frame in which a kidnapping victim is most likely to still be found alive. I consulted my watch and had to hold it away from my face in order to recognize the digits that were blurring in front of my tired eyes. Half past eleven. There was not much time. And I desperately needed a huge cup of coffee and something sugary to keep my blood sugar levels up. Maybe I was getting too old for this at forty-eight.

There was a knock at the door and I raised my head warily, wondering who it might be. Not Val again, I prayed. She was all energized up and impossibly angry already. It was her way to avoid worrying about things, but it really took some patience to keep up with it.

"Yes!" I called and sat up straight, automatically reaching for my tie that I had discarded long ago. Last night after the Chinese take out whose remains filled the room with the smell of chip fat. Time to open a window, I thought.

The door opened and my sister's friend Miss Parker walked in, as usual dressed elegantly in a black suit and the kind of high heels that Val would scowl at with any other woman. In the beginning I'd had no idea how these two could get along so well, but since I had been witness to their good friendship at several occasions, I was starting to get the picture.

"Well, hello, Miss Parker." I greeted her and she nodded graciously, barely avoiding to sneer at the rather prominent smell of stale food that dominated my office.

"I am sorry." I hurried and opened the window wide. "I've been working all night so I didn't have a chance to take the garbage out yet."

"That's okay." She gave a weak smile and proceeded towards the desk. I was sure she wasn't trying to get closer to me but rather to the open window that was located to my left hand side.

Finally she stopped and reached her hand out for me to shake. "Good to see you, Will."

"Good to see you, too. Congratulations on the little one, anyway."

She shook her head in disbelief. "Has Val sold that information to the tabloids, too?"

"Yeah, but only the ones in North America," I joked and offered her the chair that faced mine in front of the desk. She grinned and picked up the unsteady pile of folders I had placed there.

"Oh, right here." I gestured towards a small empty spot on my desk and she dumped them there.

"I see chaotic desks run in the family," she commented and lowered herself into the chair. I reckoned I deserved some fun and watched her cross her bare legs elegantly.

"So what do I owe your lovely company to?" I asked, aware of the fact that my British accent that ridiculously still dominated my family's speech although we had been living in the US for two generations was what I had charmed my wife with back in the days. It did seem to work on Miss Parker since she gave a smile which was a bit rare with her.

"Well, I was wondering whether you had learned more about the Hanson case, yet?"

I threw my hands up in frustration. "Nothing yet. ´We're looking at it from all angles but there's not much we could come up with yet."

"Any prints from the garden gate?" she asked.

"Many. We're still working at running them through the system. Nothing yet. Now we'll see whether we can match them with the family and the neighbors."

She nodded and looked at me regretfully for a moment, as if she was going to tell me something, then shrugged.

"I am sorry to bother you about this, Will. I know you're really stressed out with the case and all and you don't need another prosecutor bugging you for information."

"Hear hear," I told her sternly, then gave her a grin that I hoped would look at least half as boyish as her husband's. "It's okay. You're a nice change from Val from time to time."

"You better not tell her that."

"Speaking of Val: Maura and I are hosting a barbecue tonight. Well, it doesn't look as if I could be in attendance, but Val is invited and you know how difficult things are between her and Maura."

Miss Parker nodded, obviously well aware of the tension between my sister and my wife of many years. I didn't tell her that my wife wasn't particularly fond of her either.

"Why don't you drop by, bring that husband of yours and the little princess and keep Val away from the liquor?"

"Well, that's a very kind of you. Thank you, Will."

**Maura Cornwell**

I was angry at my husband. I understood that he would have to work all night on that kidnapping case and my heart broke at the idea of a child having been taken away from its parents, but the fact that along with his impossible sister, he had invited her impossible colleague, on whom I knew he had a crush, was a little too much. The crush was innocent and he would have never acted on it, since he was a man far too honorable to even consider it. He probably wasn't even aware of the fact that he was attracted to her, but I couldn't stand her. She was different from Val and around her calm husband she was almost bearable, but her usually snippy tone and clipped voice unnerved me along with her always perfect outfit. She was a wife and the mother of a young girl but dressed as if she was still out hunting men. I wasn't even sure whether she would stay faithful to her husband. He was very good-looking and smart, but she looked like the type who liked to get recognition from other men, too.

My garden was already buzzing with activity and my spirits lifted a bit while I watched the children play and the adults chat amicably. Our annual barbecue was always a great opportunity to invite dozens of old friends and introduce new ones. That barbecue had already caused some great marriages in its two-decade tradition.

Val stood thoughtfully, watching the kids play soccer while she was nursing a big glass of beer. She actually preferred to drink it from the bottle and had raised both eyebrows when I had ordered her to use a glass, but I didn't allow for such manners around my house. Especially not a woman's. The fact that she was working in a man's job didn't mean she could behave like a man, too.

The doorbell rang again and I went to answer it. Jarod's big grin and his very friendly manners helped me considerably while I pasted on a smile to greet his wife. While he looked casual in jeans and a shirt, she was wearing a light green summer's dress that made me raise an eyebrow although it was modest and basically fit the occasion. Still I felt as if she was trying to make a point and show off how good her figure was despite the fact that she had a child.

"Hello," I greeted her and was relieved that my voice didn't sound too strained. She smiled and I once again noticed how penetrative her eyes were. Maybe it was the contrast of the grayish blue to the blackness of her hair... I didn't know why but she always gave me the creeps.

"Thank you so much for having us. Sammy is all excited already," she told me, the brilliant smile not ceasing.

"Speaking of which, I think I'll go and introduce her to the kids," Jarod said and reached his hand out for his daughter. The little girl was adorable, which she probably owed to the fact that she must have inherited her mannerisms from her father. She smiled and waved shyly, then followed Jarod into the garden.

"We brought some wine," Miss Parker said and pointed at her huge bag. "It's a white so maybe we can put it in the fridge."

"How sweet of you!" I gushed, really kicking myself not to avoid her gaze or snap at her. She walked ahead of me into the kitchen on her impossible high heels which she would certainly not have any fun with on the lawn, I thought spitefully.

I knew that she hated cooking or handling food and that she mostly left it to her husband, who seemed to be very good at it. Stupid really, that she pursued her job with so much ambition and left typically female tasks to her poor husband who was busy enough with his practice. So I couldn't stop myself and asked her to help me with the salad in the kitchen while she was there. Why I burdened myself with being alone with her at all, I didn't really understand. She nodded and I watched her cut the bread while I arranged canapes on a plate.

**Miss Parker**

I had always known that Maura didn't like me. She probably hated me even more than Val, not hiding the fact that she did not approve of women pursuing their own careers. She did not take into account that I only worked halftime to be able to be there for Sammy when she came home from preschool or that Val didn't have any kids at all. Maura also looked the part: With carefully curled blond hair and a pink blouse along with a modest light gray skirt she was the new millennium's equivalent of a Stepford Wife. She always stood in the doorway of her big, perfectly groomed house that was stuffed with doilies and dominated by the color pink. I had never spotted a trace of her husband in it and it made me feel sorry for him whom I liked a lot. She also liked to criticize other women where she could, during which her face bore great resemblance to that of a person who'd had too much vinegar.

Today she didn't attack me right away. As usual she wasn't downright rude, but I could hear from her voice that she would have rather insulted me than be friendly. She sounded as if she was playacting whenever she addressed me with friendly words.

When I had finished slicing the bread, she handed me an already half full basket to put it into and our fingers brushed very slightly as I took it from her. It felt like an electric shock and I gasped and instinctively let go of the basket and grabbed the counter. I allowed her to bent down and pick up the bread. She probably hated me even more for it, but I was too shaken to worry about that, as long as she would never touch me again.

That afternoon Sammy had been with a friend so I'd had time to simply sit in the garden and try to concentrate on the weird feeling I was having about the kidnapping. It had felt as if I had missed something, which had also prompted me to visit Will.

I had taken up a few easy exercises that I had remembered from the times Raines had tried to push me into exploring my senses as a child and it had worked even better than during my last pregnancy. Maybe it was due to the fact that I now acknowledged it more or was under less stress, but I obviously had opened my mind already to other people's feelings. The wave of dismay and hatred that had swept over me when my fingertips had brushed Maura's had very nearly knocked me off my feet in its unexpectedness. My heart was still racing and I felt as jittery as if a jolt of electricity had just gone through me.

"How stupid of me," Maura piped up and gave me another one of those fake-smiles that now made me feel very sick. "Oh, you're so pale!" she exclaimed and set the basket aside. Probably happy to be rid of me, she reached for my arm to guide me to a chair outside. I immediately stepped back to avoid her touching me and held up my hands.

"No no," my voice sounded flat and hoarse. "You go on with this and I'll just go outside for a breath of fresh air." I could see from her facial expression that she was scandalized that I had so brusquely rejected her attempt to help me, but I didn't care.

Alone in the hallway, I leaned against the wall and took deep breaths. I had only now realized how dangerous it could become to explore a sense that was so alien to me and that could bear all kinds of risk for me and for my unborn child.

If this was just the beginning, what else could be happening? And who was there to turn to and ask since Jarod didn't believe me? I laughed bitterly when I remembered that Raines had experimented with this on my mother, so he was the only person who had known about it. And all files had blown up along with the Centre. For the first time I regretted that every trace of it had been erased either by the fire or by the Triumvirate who didn't like their secrets out in the open.

I knew that I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I just let this go and abandon Donald if I was likely to be the only person who could help him. Slowly I walked into the living-room and looked out into the garden where Sammy was sitting on the lawn next to another little girl and looked at a picture book. If it was my child who had been taken away from me, I would risk everything to get her back, I thought. And I knew I would do it for Donald, too.

I straightened my dress and slowly brushed my stomach with my palm. Maybe that was where the bad feeling about the new baby came from. The fact that trying to find Donald would put more stress on me than I could imagine. I swallowed. Was it really worth it? But then I knew that I didn't have a choice.

**TBC**


	4. Part Four

**Part Four**

**Miss Parker**

It is a well documented fact that people's characters cannot change from one minute to the next. Well, it had turned out that even five years filled with love and comfort don't always do the trick. While my manners had generally improved and I was finally able to openly show affection, I was still suspicious of everyone and everything. Call me paranoid, but after meeting Christine for our first drink together, I'd gone straight back to the office and checked her out. You have access to quite a few venues for that when you work as a prosecutor. Except for an astounding number of speeding tickets, my search hadn't turned up anything even mildly incriminating. Of course I hadn't left it at that and had asked Broots to call in a few favors from friends, but he'd come up with the same result which had left me feeling foolish and eager to keep it a secret.

So while I was finishing up some paperwork at the kitchen counter, nursing a glass of orange juice, I couldn't help glancing at my watch every two minutes. Jarod was never late. And if he was, he always called or sent text messages. Jarod was quite a fan of text messaging really, which sometimes annoyed me to no end. Now I found myself staring at my Blackberry for long periods of time, then snapped out of my stupor.

"What the hell am I doing?" I slid off the stool and walked towards the fridge to look inside at the leftovers from dinner I had kept for Jarod. I had made a chicken salad which, by the looks of it, didn't get any better. I swallowed deeply and slammed the door shut. Truth was, I hadn't really been talkative lately and when Jarod had inquired, I had simply told him he was paranoid.

How could I tell him the truth? He had snug a psychologist's business card into my bag for god's sake! He thought I was freaking out and while I was well aware of the fact that he was worried, I had no idea how to calm him without him having me committed.

Finally I heard the key in the front door and gave a relieved sigh. Jarod walked in and gave me a warm but somewhat tired smile.

"Hi, Jarod."

"Hi." He hugged me and planted a kiss on my cheek. "How has your day been?"

I shrugged. "Good. I had a busy day in court and I didn't faint. They're still looking for Donald. There's no sign of him."

Jarod nodded. "I heard. Have you been over to Linda's?"

"Not yet."

He cocked his head and brushed a strand of hair from my face. "You should really go and see her."

"I know," I replied, but dreaded what I would be in for me upon entering that house. After the little episode with Marla the previous night, I had decided to try to hold back a little for now. Still, I knew that I could not and would not put it off any longer. Having Jarod with me would also be a safety measure in case anything went wrong.

"Why don't we go over tomorrow?" I asked, lingering for a moment, wondering whether I should tell him about what had happened at Marla's house.

"You look worried," he told me, and kissed my lips gently. I closed my eyes and enjoyed it, pulling him closer towards me. Another thing that had changed about me during the last five years was that I actually allowed myself to feel safe with him. Due to the unfortunate circumstances surrounding our falling in love, we'd had a rocky start when it came to trusting each other. Now I couldn't have felt safer anywhere in the world than in his arms.

"Do you have any dinner left? I'm starving." he asked, when we finally broke apart.

"Why don't you just say 'woman, make me a sandwich'?" I mocked him, to which Jarod reacted with a look of shock. He, too, had changed during our marriage, had become more streetwise and, along with his daughter, more used to the wonders of a normal life. They had discovered Easter Bunnies together, had learned how to decorate a Christmas tree together, had fed ducks and climbed trees. Jarod had lost much of the naivety he had possessed when he had never experienced a life other than in the Centre or on the run. Still, he regularly fell for my irony. Somehow he just couldn't get used to it and often thought he'd hurt me when I had just been teasing him. Like now.

"I'm sorry. You know I would never..." he began, but I stopped him with another kiss.

"Just kidding," I whispered.

"I've changed my mind. Can I have dessert first?" He winked and tugged at my shirt.

"I told you, you weren't allowed candy anymore. I don't want you to become overweight!" I told him sternly, but this time he got the joke.

"Ha ha."

We had progressed to the kitchen and I handed him the bowl of salad I had saved for him from Sammy's greedy hands. As usual she had left most of the vegetables and gone for the chicken right away.

"It's edible!" he exclaimed, an old joke that we had regularly made since during our first year together most of the meals I'd cooked had been either burned or too salty.

We sat down on the sofa, something we only did when Sammy was in bed since we made it a point to have family meals together. While Jarod munched through the salad with the same healthy appetite he would have had for a burger, I looked out into the garden towards the fence that separated it from the Hanson's. There was a light on in the living-room and I could make out the shape of someone standing at the window, looking in my direction. Jarod was right. I really ought to go over and see whether I could help Linda.

"You okay?" Jarod asked and put his plate on the coffee table. He lifted my legs and put them over his, then kissed me again.

"Something's still bothering you," he said. "Am I correct?"

I decided to go for as much of the truth as I believed him fit to handle.

"Well, it's about Donald. He's a sweet kid and the whole thing happened right under our noses. What if it had been Sammy?"

"I feel the same way," he said. "But you know Will. He's a great sheriff and if anybody's able to find him, it's be him."

I nodded and looked into his kind eyes. He wanted the best for me and Sammy and for everyone in this town. It was no secret that Jarod was a well-respected, even admired person in the little suburban town we lived in. Although the capital of the United States was just a 45 minutes drive away, we lived in a close-knit community that relied on authorities like their doctors. Like Jarod.

Way back when we had first moved here, we had reviewed our options. While we were both not used to freedom, to being able to making our own choices or to settling down even, we had spent hours eating ice-cream and talking about possible jobs. Due to his being a Pretender, Jarod could have taken every job he'd ever wanted. He could have been a rocket-scientist, a neurosurgeon or a professor at a University but he had chosen pediatrics over all of these things. A besotted father and a hero to most children, he was the local star. People at the supermarket greeted him, old ladies blushed when he walked past and kids drew tons of pictures that he had plastered the walls in his study at the practice with. People adored him.

I was an entirely different story. People generally can't deal well with complex personalities. What I had often been told by Sydney was, that people were confused by the many opposites my character consisted of: I was a loving mother and a strict attorney. I loved my husband but I enjoyed making other men feel worthless. I appeared completely confident to the point of arrogance, but I shied away from people because I was afraid they'd hurt me.

So I was kind of polarizing. Some people chose to ignore my softer side and labeled me a bitch, while others turned a blind eye to my bitchiness and regarded me as some sort of superwoman who had no problem juggling motherhood and a prosperous career as well as a perfect marriage. Most people, however, had chosen the first stand in it.

I was grateful for the few people who saw the real me. Val, for instance or - of course - Jarod.

"Don't you ever wish you could help?" I asked Jarod now and suddenly felt a rush of affliction when I imagined Donald scared and crying somewhere. Jarod looked stricken for a moment, then took both my hands in his.

"I know what you mean, Parker. I used to be a Pretender who spent all his time helping people. I still do now, just differently. I am a doctor, helping people is my job, but I have a normal life now. I don't want to go back to the old, dark days. I just want to be with you and Sammy and our new baby and live peacefully."

I nodded. Aware of the fact, that he'd never wanted anything else than a family. So had I -somewhere buried deeply beneath layers of denial, anyway. I would have left things to the police if I hadn't believed so strongly in the fact that I would soon know things they did not. "When is your next appointment with your doctor?" Jarod asked, obviously trying to steer me away from the dreaded topic.

"Tomorrow morning, in fact. Dr Summers is always very understanding of working women and schedules weekend-appointments. I suspect she wants that new Porsche if you get my drift."

"Syd is going to take Sammy to the zoo tomorrow, right?" he asked.

"Yep. She's been excited about it all week."

"So how about I'll drop in at the office to get some paperwork done and I'll meet you at Dr Summer's later?"

I leaned forward and breathed in his comforting scent. "Perfect. Eleven o'clock. Don't be late."

* * *

Jarod hadn't been there for the general examination which I didn't mind, but when we came to the ultrasound, I began to wonder what kept him. I looked at my phone for what seemed like the hundredth time but he had neither sent a message nor called.

"I am sorry, Miss Parker," Dr Summers, my stunning-looking blond doctor told me. "We can't wait any longer for your husband. There are other patients waiting."

"Of course," I sighed in reply. "He's probably just stuck in traffic."

"You can show him the picture later," Dr Summers said brightly. She was tiny, slim, sweet, had blond curls, wore pink sweaters and I liked her- believe me, nobody had been more surprised than I.

"Everything's looking good so far." A little heartbeat was pulsating on the screen. "Oh yeah, he's all healthy."

"He?" I gasped, all cliche. Dr Summers' rosy face turned pale.

"Did I tell you? Oh my god, did you want to know or did I just spoil your sweet surprise?"

During moments like this one, I always remembered why I liked her- she was incredibly funny. Involuntarily, of course.

"It's okay." I told her. "I did want to know."

She wiped a drop of imaginary sweat from her brow. "Thank god!" She stared at the screen while she moved the ultrasound across my stomach. "He's big enough for his age... and look! He's moving around."

"Are you sure everything's fine?" I asked anxiously, well aware of the fact that I sounded like a hysteric.

"The baby's fine, anyway." Dr Summers finished her examination and handed me a tissue to wipe the gel away from my stomach.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Well, Miss Parker. You look edgy to me. You have lost weight since I've last seen you and you are pale as a ghost. You should also take care of your blood pressure. It's far too low."

I sighed, far too used to that lecture.

"You're rolling your eyes, Miss Parker, but I am serious." I hadn't been aware of the eye-rolling part. "You need to treat yourself better. The little one is not yet affected but if you put too much stress on yourself, he won't like it either."

What a cute way of putting it. Suddenly I was glad that Jarod hadn't shown up for undisclosed reasons. I wouldn't have liked him to witness someone else giving me the lecture I regularly received from him.

"It's not what it looks like," I tried to explain. "I work less, I try to eat more and I try to relax, but..." The truth was, that I couldn't. But how do you tell your doctor that pregnancy gave you some sort of sixth sense? She would probably think I had finally snapped and confine me to my bedroom in hopes of that curing me from the burnout syndrome she would very likely diagnose me with.

Dr Summers sat down next to me on the examination table. A curious gesture for a doctor that should have been inappropriate, but actually felt comforting- as if we were friends instead of doctor and patient.

"Look, Michelle. I really can't force you to take better care of yourself, but I'd strongly advise you to. You're thirty-six years old which doesn't exactly make you old for a pregnancy, but you're not in your twenties either. Plus you have a history of ulcers and judging from that scar on your back whose origin you refuse to tell me about, your body has been through a lot. Cut down on the stress and try to be a little bit more sensible if you want that little boy to stay as healthy as he is."

I swallowed dryly when she finished her speech with a comforting hand on my arm.

"I know you're trying hard, Michelle." I still didn't like my first name being used. Even Christine had given it up after a while since I had cringed every time she'd addressed me by it. "But you have to try a little harder." She paused slightly, as if the next part was difficult to voice even for her. I braced myself. "Is it possible that you have psychological issues?"

I rose abruptly and headed for the door, disgusted at the very thought of breaking down in my doctor's arms and sobbing about how my father had never loved me, my mother had been murdered in an elevator and my psychotic twin brother had tried to get into my pants? When hell froze over. Maybe.

"Miss Parker!" I was glad that she had returned to the usage of my last name which was the only reason I paused at the door. She approached me and handed me the sonogram picture I had left behind. "Don't forget this. And I'll see you in two weeks."

I nodded, numbly, then turned to leave.

**Linda Hanson**

"Here's someone to see you." Jeff addressed me with the same subdued voice he had constantly been using since Donald had been taken. As usual, he avoided my eyes, too. While I should have found some comfort in his presence, it only seemed to double the feeling of dread that had become my constant companion.

"Is it the police?" I asked, fighting the feeling of hope that instantly rose inside me. I couldn't bear another disappointment.

"No, it's Miss Parker." I was both disappointed and relieved. A visit from the police could mean both that he had been found alive or dead and there was nothing I had ever feared more than the latter. I sat up and rubbed at my eyes, aware of the fact that wouldn't help. Actually I had stopped caring for my looks four days ago, when Donald had vanished. I pulled my blanket around me in order to hide the hideous pajamas I was wearing and waited for Miss Parker to come in.

I was glad that she wasn't wearing a suit but black pants and a simple gray pullover. She always looked elegant, but I would have felt even more hideous compared to her, had she been wearing one of her posh outfits. I had no idea whether I liked Miss Parker or not. She was always friendly, but there was still something threatening about her. The weird mixture of adoration and dislike that I felt whenever we met lead to me behaving in an upbeat and overly cheerful way that I suspected she found weird. Still, I couldn't help it.

She walked in and sat down on the chair next to the couch I was resting on without being invited. I was grateful for that since the necessary polite words that would usually have been exchanged somehow felt out of place.

"Now, how are you feeling?" she asked, her voice lowered and sympathetic.

"How am I supposed to feel?" I asked, not really meant as a rhetorical question. The mere thought of losing one's child was so frightening that I had never explored it before it had happened to me. This situation was a little too much. At times the pain and fear became so overwhelming that I stopped feeling anything altogether.

For a moment Miss Parker looked as if she was going to take my hand, but then remained motionless.

"I'm so very sorry," she said. "I can only imagine how you're feeling."

"Losing Donald is the worst thing I could have ever imagined," I felt tears welling up again. As if I hadn't been crying enough over the last few days. "The police said that after 48 hours it isn't very likely to find him alive." I pressed my handkerchief to my eyes and felt the tears soak into it.

"Maybe they'll still find him," she said with a weird tone in her voice that I could not identify. "Maybe..."

I interrupted her harshly. "If you're here to get my hopes up, you can leave right away! I have been trying so hard to get acquainted to the thought of never seeing him alive again!"

There was a short, shocked silence. "I'm sorry," she said.

"No, you're not! You're just here to deliver platitudes in order to feel better. You probably even brought food over, didn't you? Some stupid casserole or a fucking cake, huh? As if eating would help!"

She looked taken aback, but not hurt by my comments. It looked as if not much could hurt that woman. Was she that heartless or just used to open hostility?

"No, I did not bring food," she simply said.

I should have tried to be grateful for her being here and trying to help, but I just couldn't. All the anger and hurt that I had been feeling towards Jeff threatened to come out and hit the wrong person. If you've been crying and winding yourself up for three days and three nights, however, you're not very skilled at controlling your emotions.

"Oh great! So you're doing everything right! Congratulations. But have you got any idea, Miss Parker, any idea how I feel?!" I couldn't stop myself and the words came pouring out of my mouth in an incredibly loud and nasty voice that did not seem to belong to me.

She simply sat in silence until I had finished my rant and looked straight into my eyes.

"I actually do," she finally said in a soft voice that differed considerably from the one I had solely hear her talk in up until now. "I lost a baby once."

And there I was, having believed that everything in this woman's life had always been perfect. She and her husband were like lovebirds still after years of marriage, her daughter was pretty and smarter than any of the kids at school, she was both beautiful and sharply intelligent, great in her job that she seemingly effortlessly managed next to spending heaps of quality time with her family and nobody would have dared to treat her disrespectfully- the thing I envied most about her life. And she had lost a baby? I had never seen pain in her eyes before, but it only flashed quickly, then disappeared. She looked as if it had slipped her and she already regretted having revealed something so personal to me.

"When?" I asked.

"Look , this is not about me. I am here to comfort you, not the other way round," she said a bit brusquely, but somehow I wanted to know. Everyone had been round to try to comfort me and no one had succeeded. I actually wanted to hear the story, whether it was because I didn't want to think about Donald for a moment, or whether I was just curious.

"No, tell me." I said and she immediately averted her eyes. A curious sense of contentment tingled inside my stomach. Was I satisfied that I had made her feel awkward for once? Since usually it was the other way round? I felt sorry immediately. She was hurt and I knew it.

"There is not much to tell. I was pregnant, my boyfriend died and I couldn't deal with the grief. It's just that I know how you must feel. It's different when it's just a miscarriage, but it hurts to think about what might have been if the baby would have been born."

She touched her stomach without noticing, then her gaze hardened again.

"Can I use your bathroom, Linda?"

I nodded, suddenly feeling more empty than before. I had caused someone else pain in order to escape my own. I had exploited someone's weakness just because I had been so excited to have finally discovered one in a woman I had believed to be invincible. Sinking back into my pillows, I cradled Donald's favorite teddy bear and buried my face in it.

**Miss Parker**

The sudden nausea my conversation with Linda had caused slowly subsided as I clung to the sink in the bathroom and stared at my reflection. Why had I just told her that? I straightened up again and washed my hands, just to have something to do.

I wasn't good at giving comfort or at relating to other women in general. I felt really sorry for Linda and I felt guilty for the fact that I was trying to avoid my sense and, consequently, finding Donald. Dr Summer's words echoed inside my head and I touched my stomach. I couldn't bear losing another child, but I also couldn't bear the guilt. Lose- lose situation, I thought bitterly.

A moment later I walked down the hallway to return to the living-room, when the half-open door into Donald's room caught my eye. I looked around but only heard muffled voices talking from downstairs. Quietly and feeling like the intruder that I was, I crept into the little boy's bedroom. The walls were painted in a cheerful yellow and the carpet was light-blue. All the toys had carefully been arranged on the shelves and the bed was neatly made. It looked as if someone had cleaned the room recently. I picked up a teddy bear and wandered towards the small desk in the corner. A box of crayons was sitting on it and I was reminded of the drawings Miss Jenkins had insisted I took for Linda. I rummaged through my handbag until I found my diary into which I had placed the folded sheets.

I unfolded them and gasped. Both of them featured a blond person with spiky hair and a black and white top. Kenny? I hurriedly began to sort through the stack of drawings that sat on the table and found most of them portraying the same person. A jolt of panic went through me. How much of a coincidence would it be for Donald to draw another little girl's _imaginary_ friend? The only possibility was, that Kenny was not imaginary at all, but a person in flesh and blood. A killer, maybe? A killer that had been into contact with both Donald and my very own daughter?

**TBC**


	5. Part Five

**Part Five**

**Jarod**

It was well past eleven when I crept into our bedroom and tiptoed into the bathroom past my sleeping wife. I quickly discarded my clothing and put it into a bag that I would hide behind my suits in my wardrobe back in the bedroom. I put on my pajamas, washed my face, brushed my teeth and then exited the bathroom. After getting rid of the bag, I stepped back onto the landing and carefully opened the door to my daughter's bedroom. She was fast asleep with the nightlight radiating a comforting, warm glow from next to the door. Samantha had pulled her covers up to her nose and was sleeping with a huge toy bunny cuddled to her chest. I sat down at her bedside and stroked her cheek while I listened to her deep, even breathing. There was a book on the bedside table that we had taken turns reading to her. They had almost reached the end of it. When had that happened? The last time I had read it to her, it had only been twenty pages into the book.

I watched my daughter sleep for another moment, then kissed her cheek and left her room again. Being with her, I always felt so peaceful and I wondered how I could ever have lived without her. The first moment she had been put into my arms, I had looked into her little then scarlet face and had felt such a rush of love that it had almost knocked me off my feet.

I returned to our bedroom and slid into bed next to Parker who hadn't moved since I had left. I couldn't see her face since it was half buried in the pillow- her favorite sleeping-position. She, too, had pulled her covers up high so that all I could see of her was her hair.

I gently touched her shoulder through the fabric and pulled her towards me. Feeling her warmth through the covers, I simply enjoyed her scent.

The day had been rough and I felt very guilty for standing Parker up at her doctor's. Truth was, I had just forgotten and only remembered when I'd come home a few minutes ago. I also felt guilty about not confessing to her what I had done, but she seemed so out of sorts lately that I didn't dare tell her now. I had promised her to take care of her during her pregnancy and I wouldn't subject her or the baby to danger by confronting her with the truth.

I felt as if I had just fallen asleep when my alarm went off. Sleepily blinking into the dim sunlight that filtered in through the curtains, I instantly discovered that I was alone.

**Christine**

"Are you sure you should be doing this, pal?" I asked Parker, eyeing her with some concern as she went through her stretching routine. She looked up and glared at me through a couple of strands of hair that had fallen out of the strict bun I only ever saw her wearing when we were running together.

"Am I missing a leg or what other unfortunate event am I owing your misplaced question to?" I raised an eyebrow at her snappy tone. She had been a bit edgy all morning, but now I was sure that something must indeed be wrong.

"So someone pissed you off and my well-meant concern for the well-being of both yourself and your offspring seems a fit reason to use me as an convenient outlet?" I asked, matter-of-factly while we fell into a comfortable jog besides each other.

"I'm sorry," she muttered and I shrugged. "Darling, I am well acquainted with both your temper and with being pissed-off in general. Don't beat yourself up."

"I am not. I am pretty used to pissing people off, so I don't meant being sulked at," she replied, but I could hear from her tone of voice that her mood had already lightened.

I waited until we had found a rhythm, then grinned at her from sideways.

"Are you going to tell me anytime? About who caused you to be all bitchy on our run together?"

We did this three times a week, usually very early in the morning, so I was used to her being bitchy. She was not a morning person. Well, actually she had really improved because when I'd first met her, she hadn't been a noon-, afternoon- or evening-person either. Maybe that was what had first made me like her. I feel mysteriously drawn to people with an attitude.

"You got me," she sighed, but did not elaborate until we were back at the point we had started from: The bench we had first met. I collapsed onto it first since one of us being in a bad mood usually resulted in a certain increase of speed. I watched her stretch again while I was content with just laying back on the bench and stretching my arms aimlessly.

"I had a prenatal exam yesterday," she finally explained and brushed the stray strands of hair from her face. She hadn't even worked up much of a sweat. I was probably getting old- which might have been the reason my moron of an ex-husband had set off to new shores, the bastard.

"So are you going to be this mean-tempered every time you'll visit your doctor?"

She finally sat down next to me and stretched her legs out, leaning back against the back of the bench.

"Jarod promised me to meet me there and he didn't show up."

"Jarod?!" I asked, surprised. He was the embodiment of a perfect husband which was sometimes almost sickening. I couldn't even imagine him doing something that must seem as outrageous to him as missing one of his wife's doctor's appointments.

"I called him three times and he didn't even get back to me."

Now that sounded even less than Jarod. It was usually him who kept calling his wife. Sometimes he was so persistent that she had to excuse herself from meetings thinking it must be an emergency but then he only wanted to tell her something he found hilarious. He was also one for text messages that he kept sending his wife between appointments. It was really sweet but also quite cheesy.

"Did he come home? Is he probably floating face down in a river?" I asked, pulling at my sweater. Despite the fact that we went running often, I still felt uncomfortable in clothing as casual as this.

"Yeah, but really late so I was already asleep."

"What about this morning?" Parker had told me that her husband was usually up and about at half past five, singing in the shower and opening windows wide to inhale the morning air- even if temperatures were below zero.

"I don't know what exhausting activity he engaged in last night, but he was still fast asleep when I left to meet you." There was a sarcastic tone in her voice that I instantly recognized from several meetings that my ex-husband and I had been accompanied to by divorce lawyers.

"Oh, stop it, Parker!" I scolded her. "You are not actually implying that he has an affair, are you?"

She avoided eye-contact and took a gulp from her water-bottle, so I settled for just looking at her incredulously. She held the silence for a while, then finally met my eyes and I was surprised how sad she looked. I would have expected outrage on her part upon finding out that her husband was cheating, but she just looked tired.

"You know I..." she cleared her throat. "I was expecting it to happen someday. It's just bad timing."

"You expected it to happen?! On what grounds? He is the sweetest..."

She held up a hand. "I know he is. I am not blaming him, you know."

"Then who? The other woman? Come on."

She gave me a pointed look since I had been rambling on about my ex's new girlfriends at length. Okay, I was a hypocrite. Deal.

"I am not blaming anyone, Christine."

"But you should be." I found myself saying despite the fact that I found the idea of Jarod having an affair bewildering to say the least. "If he really has an affair, you have every right to blame him!"

She rose from her seating position and began to walk briskly towards the car park. I followed her and shook my head in the process. "What's the matter with you?"

She was not only acting strangely, but I had no idea what she was about just now. She finally faced me again and I found a hard determination in her eyes.

"I always knew that someday he would have to look for what he 't have in me in another woman."

"Excuse me? What would he want? More beauty? More intelligence? Someone more funny? Hard to find." I shook my head. Maybe hormones had taken over and she had lost her mind. Like that one time during my pregnancy (back in the middle ages) when I had suddenly been convinced that my sister was trying to kill me. It had turned out that she had simply been planning a birthday surprise. At least that explained the hiding behind the couch.

"It's not that. Maybe you're the wrong person to talk to."

Tell your best friend anything along those lines and she'll be sure to hate you, believe me.

"Maybe you should stop rambling on about nonsense and get a grip, Parker!" I snapped at her. She seemed to notice what she had just said and placed her hand on my upper arm to calm me.

"I am sorry. I came out the wrong way. I meant that we are a lot like each other and maybe you see right through me, but I am not particularly warm."

I wasn't any wiser than just a minute ago and shrugged. "Go on, sphinx. I enjoy your talking in riddles."

"It is probably just the way I was brought up. I am just afraid that Jarod has always been looking for someone more..." She paused and seemed to wonder what it was that she was going to say. Her childhood was nothing she ever talked about and - honestly - I didn't even know whether she had siblings. The only thing I had gathered from the few nebulous things she had mentioned was that her mother had died early.

"... someone more giving."

She looked so sad that I had the motherly urge to put my arms around her and squeeze her hard. Weird enough, since motherly urges weren't quite my thing normally.

"Is that what you think? That you're not enough?" I asked instead.

"Stop it," she hissed, then added more softly. "It sounds as if I thought I wasn't good enough for him if you put it like that."

I decided to give her something to chew on. Miss Parker wasn't someone who could be convinced by words if she had set her mind on something, so I usually had to orchestrate quite a show.

"It is exactly like that. You will just have to find out whether you're right or wrong."

With these harsh words spoken, I walked towards my car without turning back.

**Jarod**

Sammy ran back into the house ahead of me, completely overjoyed because I had finally given in and bought her the teddy bear she had been admiring in the window of the small toyshop in town for weeks.

"Careful, honey!" I warned her, when she dashed down the hallway, cradling the toy to her chest. Her pigtails bounced up and down as she did a quick survey of the kitchen in order to find her mother. I had taken Sammy out to go grocery shopping while Parker had still been out so I still hadn't seen her yet.

She obviously wasn't in the kitchen, so Sammy stormed off into the living-room. I lingered back and began to put the groceries into the fridge and cupboards. Miss Parker would either be extremely pissed off or very disappointed because of my having been a no-show yesterday and I couldn't decide which I dreaded more.

I had pondered whether she would rather be pacified by her favorite white or red wine for minutes until I had remembered that she surely wouldn't drink since she was pregnant.

I had tried calling her, but she had not taken her blackberry with her and when I tried again, the familiar ring tone sounded from the kitchen counter where she had obviously left it. I snapped my cell phone shut and sighed. Where was she?

There was a shriek from the upper floor and I bolted instantly. My old instincts were still very much in place and when it came to the welfare of my family, I was even more alert than I had been back in the days. I took the stairs two at a time and arrived on the landing to be faced with Sammy who was staring at Parker with big worried eyes.

"Daddy," she simply said as she caught sight of me. Parker was wearing a patted robe and wet strands of hair were clinging to her exceptionally pale face as she exited the bathroom.

"Oh my, I look so horrible that I scare my little girl," Parker sighed and automatically stroked Sammy's hair who had wrapped her arms around her mother's middle in a comforting gesture.

"Sorry, Mommy. I just thought you were ill," Sammy apologized, her voice muffled since she had pressed her cheek into the material of the robe.

"Don't apologize, honey. I do look scary without make-up." Parker closed her eyes for a moment, unseen by our daughter and allowed the stress she must be under to show clearly on her face. I had recognized that something must be wrong before, however. It was almost scary how well we knew each other and keeping things from the other was more than just difficult. Feeling like an observer rather than the part of this family that I was, I stepped towards them, when Sammy's next words stopped me dead in my tracks.

"Are you sick because of the baby?"

For the first time, Parker's eyes met mine and I could see both confusion and discomfort in them as we had figured out that Sammy must have been referring to a little brother in general that day at school. We had believed that she had talked about some time in the future and didn't actually know about Parker's pregnancy. Obviously, we had been proved wrong.

Parker took one step back and crouched down to eye-level with our daughter who looked worried now that she had realized she had said something to upset her mother.

"You're right. It is called morning sickness."

"It is almost noon," Sammy said and frowned in concern.

"Yes, I guess that's just the name. It can occur any time of the day." Parker took a deep breath and placed one of her hands against the floorboard to steady herself. "And it does." She had nearly choked on the last three words and got up to run into the bathroom, banging the door behind her.

Sammy turned around to look at me and shook her head. "You should make her some tea. The one you made for me when I had the flu last year." She rolled her eyes to the ceiling in concentration, then shrugged. "We didn't buy crackers. We should have bought crackers."

Despite the pity I felt for Parker having to endure pregnancy symptoms, I couldn't help but smile. I opened my arms for Sammy and she nestled inside, letting me carry her downstairs. She was actually too old for this and was getting tall for her age, but in moments like this I liked to have my little girl in my arms.

Downstairs I placed her on the kitchen counter and she giggled with delight. While the water began to boil in the kettle, I turned towards her.

"You are going to have a little brother or sister, you know." The realization that I might have already known which if I hadn't forgotten the appointment stung for a moment.

"Brother. I am going to have a little brother!" she announced, beaming. The smile on her face was completely open and genuine and I still couldn't figure out how she could possibly know.

We were interrupted by Parker who had brushed her wet hair back and changed into a cotton sweater and sweat-pants. She still looked pale but not as uncomfortable anymore.

"Are you feeling better?" I asked her, not yet daring to put my arms around her, as she might still be angry with me. Right now, however, she seemed too tired for that.

"Yes. I went running with Christine this morning and I guess he doesn't like it."

She rubbed her stomach lightly as to indicate who the "he" was, that she was referring to. I looked at Sammy who was dangling her legs, watching the steam pour out of the kettle.

"Are you implying that we are having a little boy?" I asked, my heart thundering with both happiness and shock that Sammy had been right about the baby's gender. Miss Parker gave a happy smile and nodded. "Don't even ask. We will not call him Dexter."

She would never stop teasing me about the fact that I had purchased the whole cartoon series "Dexter's Laboratory" on DVD, would she? I wrapped my arms around her, the missed appointment temporarily forgotten, and cradled her head in my hand. Suddenly a thought crossed my mind and I held her by the shoulders, gently making her look at me.

"Is everything alright? You were so worried..."

"Dr Summers said he was strong and healthy. I can show you the sonogram picture later."

"Mommy!" Sammy exclaimed and opened her arms wide. "Come here."

Miss Parker gave a mock salute and walked towards her, hugging her, too.

"You must be careful, Mommy," she said, her face more serious than I had ever seen it. "So he won't die like the other one."

Miss Parker gave a low whimper and I suddenly felt sick myself which could hardly be appointed to pregnancy, obviously. I could see in my wife's face that she was trying very hard not to lose her composure in front of our daughter.

"I'll be very careful," she said in a voice that sounded like a child's. She cleared her throat, which resulted in her sounding a bit more like herself. "Why don't you go and get that teddy bear Daddy bought you today? I'd like to have a good look at him."

Sammy nodded, somewhat unaware of her mother's predicament and dropped a kiss on Parker's cheek when she lifted her off the counter.

As soon as Sammy had left the room, I closed the distance between me and my wife and pulled her close to me before her legs could buckle.

"How can she know?" she whispered into my shirt front, but I still understood since it was the exact same question that was swirling inside my own mind right now.

"I don't know..." I began, but she interrupted me: "Sydney wouldn't have told her. He'd know that she would be scared and he'd know that I don't want anyone to talk about it."

I kept holding her for another moment, trying to reassure her by the mere sensation of our bodies blending into each other like one.

"I am going to talk to her," I told her, kissing her temple and stroking her back soothingly.

"Why don't you go and rest for a bit?"

"I don't think so. I think I'm rather going to be sick," she slurred, already halfway out the door.

**Miss Parker**

I was on my back, one arm behind my head staring at the ceiling. The nausea had finally subsided and what remained was a kind of numb feeling. Jarod had been talking to Samantha, trying to find out how she had heard about my miscarriage and how she could know I was carrying a little boy. Her response had been a secretive smile and a shrug. He had tried to coax it out of her and finally she had told him she just knew. Nobody had told her. _She just knew_. He had been frustrated since he knew a hundred techniques to extract information from a person, only that he would never even use a single one on his beloved daughter- for which I was glad.

There was a soft knock at the door and Jarod peeked around the corner, carrying a tray.

"Hey there, how are you feeling?"

I propped myself up on my elbows and watched him approach me. "Better."

"I brought you something to eat. You must be hungry."

I felt nausea well up again and swallowed dryly, then addressed my husband in a strained, yet commanding voice: "Take that tray out of here."

He knew better than to disobey and disappeared into the hallway again. When he reentered the bedroom a moment later, it was sans the tray. Thank god.

"I know you mean well, but I am a bit sick of being sick."

"Ha ha," he said sarcastically and slid on the bed next to me. He had mostly abandoned the leather jackets and black jeans when we had moved here and although I loved the way light brown and beige brought out the color of his eyes, I sometimes missed the rough charm that attire had given him. There was no creak of leather when he rolled on his side and kissed me gently in the corner of my mouth. His kiss felt good and eternally comforting. I turned to face him and brushed a strand of hair from his face.

"I am so sorry about yesterday," he said and I felt pain tug at my heart again. Had Christine been right? Was I completely nuts because I as much as considered this caring man who had often declared me and Sammy the sole purpose of his life able to have an affair? The problem was that I knew he was keeping something from me. Had I worked more on my sense lately, I would have probably been able to tell what it was.

"What kept you?" I asked, hoping that he would assume my placidness about the matter was due to my exhaustion.

He gave a nervous little laugh and ran his hand through his hair, ruffling it in the process. "I was so busy with paperwork that I forgot the time. And then I fell asleep at my desk, stupid me."

"That's why you didn't answer your phone?"

"Yes. I'm so sorry."

"Don't be. It wasn't very exciting anyway." I smiled up at him and brushed his lips with mine again, glad that he hadn't been there for Dr Summer's little speech about my lack of self-preservation.

"Next time I'll be there," he promised, after which I couldn't help but tease him with just a hint of seriousness in my voice: "Don't get my hopes up."

He kissed me back, resting his hand on my stomach.

"Only a few weeks and you'll be showing," he said wondrously and I was reminded how he had missed nearly half of my first pregnancy, which made him eager to be there for it this time. Well, not eager enough not to miss prenatal exams.

"Don't remind me," I snapped at him, putting up the act for fear he would find out that I still didn't believe him. If anyone had ever seen Jarod's desk they knew that their was no way to fall asleep on it without setting a pile of files off. I knew the deal from Val's desk. Last time she had fallen asleep - a glorious hangover being the reason - she had caused a landslide of paper to rush towards the floor and I had discovered her swearing and crawling over the floor to pick things up again.

"You'll be so beautiful," he mockingly gushed and I rolled my eyes.

"Crazy," I said and ruffled his hair just because I so liked doing it. Especially since nowadays he went for a more natural hairstyle that required less styling gel that would have stuck to my fingers otherwise.

He caught my hand and put it against his chest, probably fully intending to have it wander downwards later.

"Do you think you are too tired to fulfill your marital duties?" He winked and I shook my head, grinning.

"I could probably use a bit of persuasion." And a diversion from the questions concerning my daughter.

"I think that could be done," Jarod said and swiftly moved towards me, gently making me lay back on the bed while he moved one leg over mine and began to kiss my neck.

A few minutes later, when we had just managed to rid ourselves of most of our clothes, my phone began to ring.

"Just leave it," he whispered and tried to kiss me again.

"Wait." I had recognized the number on the screen. Val's office number- on a Sunday evening?

"I think I have to get that. It's work," I told him and he pulled a face and wrapped his arm around my bare middle when I answered.

"Parker," Val's voice was grave but I would have known from the fact alone that she addressed me by my name instead of "Skinny" that something must be wrong. "I need you here. Donald is dead."

**TBC**


	6. Part Six

**Part Six**

**Val Cornwell**

Skinny was the first of all the people I had called to reach the office. She was wearing a crisp suit which made a sharp contrast to her tousled hair. The only sign of make-up on her face was a deep burgundy shade of lipstick that was probably supposed to avert attention from her tired eyes and pale skin but had the opposite effect.

"Man, what did you do to yourself?" I asked her, brushing her arm lightly. We usually didn't exchange pleasantries or hugged when we met, but today I felt like a bit of human contact and sensed that she might feel the same.

"I've spent all day throwing up. Would you like to hear the details?" she responded in our usual rapport, but looked just as distracted as I felt.

"Well, let's hope your stomach is empty now because this won't be easy."

She nodded and folded her arms in front of her chest defensively.

"So fill me in," she told me in a neutral voice.

"You remember Charles Baxter, I presume."

"Yes of course, since I fainted during his trial." The look on her face bordered on disgust for a moment, then it returned to a neutral expression. "What is it with him? His trial has been adjourned to Wednesday."

"They released him on bail after that turmoil your little episode caused and now he's here, saying he's got information about Donald."

Miss Parker frowned and then voiced what had been exactly my thoughts when I had first been told by Will about what Baxter claimed he knew. "He is an organized crime sort of criminal. He defrauds banks and sells stolen goods but I am sure he would never hurt a child."

She was right. Charles Baxter had an impressive criminal record but nothing had ever really been pinned on him. We owed it to Will's great investigative skills that we had been able to drag him into a court room with what little evidence he had left behind. For decades he had been working in the open, having other people commit the crimes for him, but then he had made a mistake and we had rejoiced. He was clearly capable of kidnapping someone, but not a child. He would tell his gorillas to shake people up, but he would not harm an innocent person- it simply didn't seem to be in his nature.

"Well, let's see what he's got to say."

I stepped aside and gestured towards the interview room, deferring her entry first. My eyes on her back, I had one last look at the dusk settling outside, wrapping the trees up in darkness, then followed her.

**Miss Parker**

Charles Baxter was not your average villain. Having worked at a corporation more evil than most people can grasp and then switching to the good side of the law, I had seen my share of criminals. If I had learned one thing, it was that everyone had a weakness- and people who appeared invincible were usually the weakest if you just discovered their deficiencies. I had always had a knack for seeing these insecurities in people and while back in my old life, I had used them to find the right way to scare and affront people, it had become my strategy to be good in my job.

And I knew I was good. Nobody had climbed the ranks in the DA's office as quickly and swiftly as I had and although I couldn't deny that I was proud of it, I also knew that I owed my success to a very dark part of my personality.

Last year, a young woman, cute as a button and more polite than I would ever be capable of being, had been accused of murdering her husband, since she had been found knitting in the living-room while he lay dead in the garage- stabbed. Her fingerprints had been all over him and the knife, so they had gone to trial. While everyone had expected it to go away because of reasonable doubt, I had systematically tried the woman. My instincts told me that she had killed her husband and although nobody had believed me - not even Val who'd said she could understand why I didn't like Barbie, but needed to let it go - it had somehow been crystal-clear to me. It had taken me lots of pointless meetings with the defendant until I had finally found it. The couple hadn't had children, but two upstairs bedrooms had been empty, but painted in cheery colors. I had deliberately picked up Sammy's picture on my desk while talking to the woman and I had seen her gaze immediately. I had burned itself into the photograph of my little girl, sitting on my lap and beaming at the camera. Her face had hardened, which I had never seen in her before and like an animal that had almost caught its prey, I had caught a whiff of blood. That next day in trial I had cross-examined her, systematically led her through the questions I was sure her attorney had prepared her well for. I had seen her relax in the witness stand, I had seen a smug smile forming on her attorney's face while the jury members had begun to scribble down notes. Val, watching from the sidelines, had looked as if she was going to kill me for giving such a weak performance. I had stepped back behind the prosecution table, pretended to shuffle around my papers, then looked up and had added, as if spontaneously: "Well, Mrs Truman, you don't have any children, do you?"

I could tell that the question unsettled her, caught her extremely off guard and so, when she shook her head, I rounded the table quickly, closing in on her. Her mask of innocence had slipped and I had blurted out the next question in the growl I had once so successfully used on Broots: "But there is nothing you want more, is there?" And before her equally surprised attorney had gathered his wits, I had fired more questions at her, too close together to allow either an answer or an objection. "Can't you have any?" "When did you find out your husband had a child with another woman?" "Did he refuse?" These questions had been somewhat unrelated, like brought up associations, but I had hit home with one of them. Her placid little face had turned from rosy to scarlet and her fists had closed around the chair's armrests so that I could see her knuckles turning white. I had been right. She had a weakness and I had just dragged it out into the open. My hunch had been right. She wasn't half as sweet and innocent as she pretended to be, and act like that usually tend to blow when you cannot afford it.

"The bastard!" she had blurted out, much to the surprise of her paling attorney. "How could he?" Tears had sprung to her eyes and I had taken a step back, still focusing on her. "He knocked that other woman up and had a baby with her while he knew all the time that I couldn't get pregnant!"

She had been trembling by then, a very familiar madness shining inside her blue eyes, her pretty face suddenly a grimace of pain and violence.

"So you killed him," I had stated firmly and neutrally.

"Objection!" The defense attorney had been on his feet instantly, trying to rescue her, but it had been too late.

"Damn right I did, that mean bastard!"

And that was that.

Everyone had a weakness and if you knew about it, you could destroy them. I knew, because they had used my weaknesses against me in the Centre constantly: My dead mother, my hope that my father would one day love me and the fact that I had allowed myself to care for Broots and Sydney.

The problem with Baxter was, however, that he did not seem to have a weakness and if he did, I couldn't find it. That day in court, right before I had fainted, I had seen a female jury member look at him from the corner of her eye, blushing slightly and I had known that I didn't stand much of a chance. We had been lucky to finally be able to pin something on him, but although the evidence spoke for itself, his simple being there was putting everything we'd worked for in jeopardy. He was charming, polite and I had discovered that I actually liked him. Well, he stood for everything that was wrong with society: The rich getting richer, people finding loopholes in the law, power making criminals untouchable to law enforcement and money buying everything one wants. Still, I had enjoyed talking to him and I had hated myself for that.

Now that I entered the interview room and approached the table he was sitting on, it hit me once again. Charles Baxter was a very attractive man. He was in his late fifties, his hair already a perfect white, wearing a dandy light brown suit with a tasteful tie and polished shoes. He could have starred in a gangster movie. His features were vaguely reminiscent of Al Pacino, most notably his intense dark-brown eyes. His skin was slightly bronze, so I doubted that he was actually American, but the accent he spoke in could have been anything since it was surprisingly neutral, making one unable to pin any ancestry on him whether national or international. As far as the authorities were concerned, he had suddenly appeared out of nowhere in the seventies, conquering the local scene within months.

Will, too much a rough cop still to be fooled by the man's charms got up when we stepped in, running a hand through his unruly hair in exasperation. Contrary to other suspects in his position, Charles Baxter rose too, a perfect smile curling his full lips and extended his hand towards me.

"Miss Parker, how very pleasant to meet you here."

I shook his hand, slightly unsettled by the thought of it and sat down next to Will. Val ignored his hand and snorted. She was immune to male charms. Lucky her.

"Well, Miss Parker. I do hope you have recovered from your unlucky accident," he opened the conversation and, while playing his charms, had effortlessly put himself in charge of the conversation- which was unusual if you considered his position on the interview table. He played people like puppets and they graciously allowed him to.

"This is not what we are here for, though, is it?" I replied, placing my hands on the table, crossing them at the wrists.

"Indeed, indeed. I see that as usual you know your priorities, Miss Parker." He gave me a mischievous smile that made me regret my harsh reply until I called myself to order.

I simply lifted both my eyebrows as to indicate that I did not wish to exchange further pleasantries and instead wanted to get down to business.

Charles looked straight into my eyes as he began telling his story and I began to feel as if we were the only people in the room, which, of course, was what he had intended. I was not fooled, but decided to play along.

"I regret to inform you that one of my..." he paused deliberately. "... business associates has crossed to the dark side." The dark side. Charming. If they were working with or for him, they were obviously on the dark side alright. "He has been working for me for a little over two months and I did notice a certain edginess in him, but I assumed it was down to his occupation." Probably a contract killer.

"Well, lately he seemed out of sort so I had one of my men follow him and discovered that he seemed to be burning things." His silky voice softened for the first time and there was regret showing in his eyes. "When my employee moved closer, he discovered that he seemed to be burning the remains of a dead body. A small body." His dark eyes looked really sad now.

"My employee returned to me at once, since he didn't want to be caught up in such business. When we returned later, we only found the ashes and a few smaller bones. The fire took it all away," he ended it.

I felt my heart contract in my chest. He was either a very good actor, or this was as painful for him to tell as it would have been for any model-citizen.

"I had two of my man stay there in case he returned. I haven't heard of him since. I assume he has moved on."

"What was his name?" Val chimed in, pen poised over paper.

"Well, you know we don't work with full names in my area of business." The way he said it, it sounded as if he was an artist rather than the head of organized crime in the area. "I can only tell you the first name he went by."

I knew what was coming before he said it.

"Which was Kenny."

I suddenly felt sick again, so I took a sip from the water Will had slid towards me over the table earlier. It helped immediately and I hurried to quickly and inconspicuously wipe away the thin film of perspiration from beyond my upper lip.

"What did he look like?" I asked, feeling my insides wrench at the same time.

"It's not easy to tell, Miss Parker. He was wearing dark clothes, a wide coat mostly so I can only tell you that he was tall, but cannot make an assumption concerning his built. He was mostly wearing an old-fashioned hat which shaded his eyes. I guess his hair was of a light color. Blond maybe, since I saw glimpses of it once. We only ever met in darkness, which he insisted on, so I believe there was something wrong with his face."

"Sounds like Freddy Kruger to me, fellow," Val said. "Can't you give us any more details?"

He shrugged and shook his head regretfully. "My being a witness to a crime and actually telling the police about it is as new to me as it is to you, but I really cannot remember more about him."

"What about his voice?" I asked.

"Oh, how smart of you to ask. I did not think to mention that." He gave me an appreciative smile and I felt like a little girl who had received laud from a favorite teacher. "His voice was husky, sounded hoarse most of the time. As if he had trouble breathing."

His accent really bothered me. It was so smooth and non-obtrusive that I couldn't even tell whether it was closer to British or American.

**Jarod**

I had told her. I had finally told her and was now waiting for her to reply. Naturally, I had expected her first question: "Why didn't you tell me earlier?" "I... I thought you'd be upset." She shook her head. "I still am." She turned away from me and walked towards the window, her back turned to me.

"I don't think I can do this. I told you I was afraid this would happen and I very well understand why you'd want to do this, but I can't. I simply can't live with it."

I approached her and wrapped my arms around her body, trying to hold her, but she stepped away.

"I can't be with you anymore, Jarod."

"But..."

"You must understand." Her eyes were tear-filled now and I knew this was forever, when she pressed a kiss to my mouth and walked away.

"Parker!" I called after her, desperately, but she vanished out of sight. I wanted to run after her, but my legs wouldn't move. I tried. I tried so hard and began to shout after her with growing distress. "Parker! Parker!"

"Sch-sch, I'm here."

I snapped out of my nightmare and found myself sitting up in bed, the covers thrown to the floor, my body covered and sweat, panting with panic. Parker was on her side of the bed, dressed in her suit, the lipstick worn-off a little, holding on to my arm. I tried to calm down and recover my breath, then leaned forward to grab the covers.

"No, no. Let me do that." Before I knew it, she had rounded the bed and picked up the covers, straightening them, then tucked me in again. She shrugged out of her jacket, then climbed under the covers with me and slid her leg over mine. I could feel the tights on her leg and the rim of her skirt that was riding up with the motion while she wrapped one arm around me and popped her head up on the other.

"Bad dream?" she asked, her voice tired, and with a quick glance at the alarm-clock, I realized it was five in the morning.

"Did you just come home?" I asked, touching her cheek.

"Yes," she replied simply, then put her head next to my shoulder and closed her eyes. "Just in time to save you. Was it about the Centre again?"

Contrary to her, I didn't have many bad dreams about the Centre. New memories from my happy life had seemed to wash away the old dread and when I thought about the old times, it was with a detached feeling, as if these things had happened more than just a few years ago.

"Yes," I replied, feeling guilty about lying. This was not the moment to tell her the truth. I pulled her closer to me and buried my face in her hair. "I love you."

She just smiled and kissed me gently. She never said "I love you, too" claiming that the words were too precious to be uttered as an automatic response, so she only ever said it herself.

"What took you so long?" I asked, but she failed to answer, having already fallen asleep. She would probably not be able to sleep in that next morning, so I let it go and contended myself with just holding her in my arms. I just hoped I would still be able to when I had told her my secret.

**Miss Parker**

When I stumbled down the stairs and into the kitchen the next morning at eight, having slept for roughly two hours before I had dragged myself into the bathroom to shower and apply countless layers of make up to hide the dark circles under my eyes, Christine was sitting at the kitchen-counter, playing cards with Samantha. She was wearing a stylish light-blue jogging-suit complete with matching running-shoes and a sweatband that looked somewhat ridiculous on her.

"Oh my god, it's Monday!" I exclaimed, having completely forgotten about the fact that we had decided to meet again for running this morning.

"Never mind, pal." Christine smiled. "I just heard from your lovely husband that you got home at five this morning. So I will just contend myself with losing at card-games to your daughter."

"You're playing poker?" I lifted one eyebrow. Sammy beamed. "Yes! I always win!"

She really was her father's daughter.

"You can join my canasta club if you want," Christine offered, but I cleared my throat loudly enough for her to understand that I preferred my five year old daughter elsewhere than engaging in gambling of any kind.

"Coffee?" Christine asked and indicated the pot, but I shook my head and sat down to nibble on some toast. Eating was not what I felt like, but considering the fact that I had gone without food yesterday, I knew I wouldn't survive another day at the office without breakfast.

"Are you feeling better, Mommy?" Sammy asked.

"Yes. I'm just tired, honey." I squeezed her hand lightly. I had yet to talk to her about the mysterious Kenny and how she had come into contact with him. I couldn't imagine how, since we were probably even more protective of her than other parents. A past like ours would do that to people.

"Why don't you go upstairs and get dressed, baby?" I asked her, aching to take her in my arms and not let her go again for fear that anything might hurt her.

"Okay."

Jarod had already prepared Sammy's lunch and placed the box next to her plate, so I finally dared to pour a cup of coffee and have a sip. No nausea. Good.

"Jarod left for work early. He says he'll pick you up for lunch, the sweetheart."

I laughed. "Are you sweet on my man?" I threatened her mockingly.

"I couldn't imagine a girl who is not." Christine snickered and patted my hand.

"Now, what happened last night? Did they find Donald?"

My face probably fell at the question and Christine instantly looked sympathetic.

"We did, Christine. We were tipped off and found his burned remains. They are trying to get some DNA out of it as we speak, but it doesn't look good."

"Can you be sure it's him?"

"Obviously not. But there's no other kid missing in the area, so it is very likely. Will has officially declared it a murder investigation."

**Val**

"Skinny, go home. You're falling asleep at your desk," I ordered her and she blinked at me, blushing as she noticed that I was right.

"Embarrassing," she murmured. "I should be leaving for lunch now, anyway."

"Check out the new place around the corner. They make a fantastic cheeseburger with tons of onions and a great barbecue sauce." I grinned as she turned pale. "Sorry, I couldn't resist." In times with prospects as horrible as these, we usually joked around in a vain attempt to escape the grim reality.

"I hate you," she replied evenly, switching her computer off.

"There is still something you ought to explain to me," I told her, making myself comfortable in the chair opposite her desk once again.

"What?" She blinked, surprised. Interesting: She was capable of reading people so well, but never expected anyone to be able to read her.

"You turned green when he mentioned the name Kenny. Why's that?"

She closed her eyes and rubbed the bridge of her nose as if she was suffering from a headache. "Oh, that."

"So what is it? One of your hunches?"

"No. My daughter has been talking about a person named Kenny which her teacher believed was some sort of imaginary friend. And Donald has been drawing pictures with him in them, too."

"Oh my god." I leaned forward. "So you think your daughter has met him, too?"

She nodded, looking scared for a moment before the professional mask was back in place. "I just can't imagine how. We never leave her out of our sight."

"It must have happened at school then. I'll have Will send one of the boys over to question them. And don't worry, we'll kick this Kenny's ass."

She nodded and managed a smile.

"You go home for today. Have Greg do the research for the closing next week. Tell him to read those files and sum them up properly. I'll have a look at it later. It will be a nice practice for him and you can go and rest."

Parker's face had darkened. "You're not taking me off the case, are you?"

I laughed bitterly. "I wouldn't dare because I would be too worried you'd go off on your own. But at least I want you to be rested so you'll not puke all over the evidence, fall asleep on a suspect or suffer a full-blown crying jag at inappropriate moments."

She looked mutinous for a second and opened her mouth to probably hurl some insult at me, but I raised my hands in a pacifying gesture.

"Just kidding. Get some sleep. I'll call you when you're needed."

She got up, nodding and walked towards the door, pausing when she passed me. "Thank you, Val."

**Miss Parker**

I hated being sent home by a well-meaning colleague. Back in the days I would have bitten their head off. Then again, back in the days I hadn't been pregnant and somewhat sensitive. It wasn't so much the lack of sleep and the dread the whole development had caused, but something strange gnawing at me. I couldn't put my finger on it, but I was sure it was somehow connected to the sense I hadn't wanted to use in order to find Donald.

Sitting in my car I grabbed the stirring wheel and felt the horrible sensation of guilt welling up inside me again. I was no stranger to guilt since I had lived with it most of my life, but this was different. Although I had tried to use my sense, I hadn't pursued it enough, hadn't managed to find anything out. I had convinced myself that I was trying to find Donald, while in fact I was not. I had been too scared of endangering my pregnancy- stupid me. Last time I had been pregnant, a building had collapsed on top of me- how could it get any worse? It felt as if I had killed Donald with my own hands.

There was a knock at my car-window and I jumped, then recognized Steve Christian, a defense attorney. I sighed and rolled the window down, glaring at him.

"What?"

"Oh, just inquiring about your health, Miss P," he said in a singsong voice that I had learned to hate. Not a good lawyer but a terrific dazzler, he kept finding clients but rarely succeeded in getting them off the hook. Which was why he hated me.

"I'm fine. Thank you. But you must have been delighted since you wouldn't have stood a chance getting bail if I hadn't... fainted."

He grinned smugly and I wondered whether anyone would mind if I just ran him over. I had driven a car through a wall once. But it had been a rental. This car I loved. Lucky Christian.

"Well, you must be grateful then. Otherwise you wouldn't have been able to close that little boy's case so quickly." He snapped his fingers and winked at me. I loved the car. But not that much. It would have given me extreme satisfaction to crush him between the front of my car and the wall of the underground parking-lot.

"Well, anyway. I completely loved how you fainted in the middle of a sentence." He put on a goofy expression that I gathered was supposed to be an impersonation of me and piped: "He has relations to all kinds of criminals, even the Centre..." He pressed his hand against his forehead at this point and pretended to faint.

"The Centre?" I asked, my throat going dry.

"Weird, eh? I would have picked up on that in my closing since I have no idea what you were talking about. And they say your research was so well-done. Ts Ts."

I didn't really hear the following insults and gathered up the last bit of strength I had to glare at him, tell him to crawl back into his hole and start the car.

The Centre? Why on earth had I mentioned the Centre? I remembered feeling a bit fuzzy before I had fainted, but I didn't remember saying the words. Obviously, I had never meant to say them in the first place.

Charles Baxter and relations to the Centre? Was my sense playing tricks on me? Or had my brain just clouded over a moment before I lost consciousness and I had blurted out at random the most terrifying relation anyone could have?

I didn't know, but it wouldn't stay that way. I made a U-turn that resulted in ten cars blowing their horns and made for Charles Baxter's house.

**TBC**


	7. Part Seven

**Part Seven**

**Author's Note:** Thank you, Angel, for your lovely review! Since you weren't logged in, I couldn't send you a private message, so I just thought I say it here. :-)

**Jarod**

Since my practice was regularly closed Monday afternoons I usually spent the time running errands and basically catching up on things I didn't manage to do during the rest of the week. Today, however, I had different plans. I wasn't sure whether I had been meaning to tell my wife about them at lunch, but then again, naturally, I had not. Val had told me she'd sent Parker home to sleep- a decision I completely supported, so I was a little ahead of my schedule. Stopping by in a little store in town I contemplated the display for something appropriate when the shopkeeper approached me. Her round face reminded me of a ripe apple and her little chubby hands seemed to be moving constantly. Mrs Simmons was hard to place when it came to her age, but it didn't really matter, since her cornflower eyes were always sparkling with delight when she saw me.

"A present for your wife?" she asked in a cheerful tone and the metaphorical hand in the cookie jar came to mind.

"Well, actually... no. Something for a friend."

"A lady or a gentleman?" she asked brightly and I felt like storming out of the shop since she was not only very charming but also one hell of a gossip. If I agreed on it being a lady, the whole town would know by tomorrow morning. And Parker would rip my head off.

"No- a gentleman, actually," I said, feeling foolish right away.

"Ah," she seemed a little disappointed since besides all her cheerfulness I knew pretty well that she was one of the many people who disagreed with my choice of wife.

"Then maybe you'd like to go with this cigar box? It is one valuable little thing but since it's you, we can do something about the price..." She winked at me but I shook my head.

"No, thanks. That gentleman is actually too young for that kind of thing."

She looked flustered for a moment. "One of your patients then?" Automatically turning into the direction of toys, she hustled through the shop at an amazing speed that did not seem to match her size and figure.

"No again. My wife's pregnant and I would like to buy a little something for the little guy already."

There she had her gossip and my eyes widened slightly. How could I have been so dumb? She would probably tell everyone and Parker would kill me if everyone knew.

"Oh, how far along is she?" Besides all the cheer, I could hear that her happy tone was faked. Another baby on the way certainly was not a sign for an impending divorce.

"Three months," I told her proudly.

"Well then it might be a little early for a present."

"Gotta run anyway. Thank you," I told her, backing out quickly and leaving her behind looking suspicious.

Looking at my watch I found that I was still early but was eager to escape the prying eyes of the town and unlocked my car to set off towards my destination. Fifteen minutes later I arrived at a small bar just at the outskirts of town that was nearly empty on a workday afternoon. The barkeeper was ancient and half-blind and looked bored when I entered the gloomy room.

"Whatcha want?" he barked, blinking into my general direction through lopsided, thick glasses that didn't seem to do much about his eyesight.

"A cup of coffee please."

"'kay, bringin' it right over." The old man turned around slowly and scuffled towards the coffee machine in the corner of the room. I chose the table farthest from the door and looked around. There was only one drunk-looking customer who was sipping a clear beverage and stared into space. I drummed my fingers on the table nervously and had to withdraw them with a start when the patron dumped the coffee in front of me, liquid spilling all over the saucer.

"'m sorry, boy," he croaked and made his agonizingly slow way back to the counter while I was left cleaning up the mess with a used-looking napkin.

"Charming place, charming service," a very well-known voice sounded from just behind me and when I looked up, I looked into the mischievously smiling eyes of Zoe.

**Val**

"Your cholesterole-levels will skyrocket at that rate, Val," Will said, frowning.

"Newsflash, darling. I don't care." I took a hearty bite of my bacon sandwich just to spite him. "Now tell me what you found out," I munched through it.

He looked as if he was about to slide the file across the table for my inspection, but then hesitated and instead pulled it closer towards him. I cocked an eyebrow at him just so he'd know that I was aware of the fact that he didn't think me capable of not staining the paper with grease. As if years of practice hadn't made me perfect in the simultaneously eating and working department.

"Well, there was no way of extracting any DNA from the remains of the bones, but the hair we found matches Donald's."

"So you've got a match."

"We do."

"Any word on the mysterious Freddy Kruger?" I asked and could tell by the way the corner of his mouth twitched, that he disapproved of my nickname for the suspect.

"Nothing. Nobody around town seems to have come across a man fitting that description."

"Surprise." I wiped my fingers on a napkin and gave the remains of his chicken salad a sly look. "That looks nasty, Will. Is Marla still bugging you about your eating-habits?"

Marla's and my private little war had been an ongoing source of pain in the ass for him right since the day I had first met her. I couldn't stand the little prick and I never would.

"Val, don't get started..." he began, but I felt like teasing my brother and I hated to pass on an opportunity of commenting negatively on his wife.

"What you're eating there looks like something Parker would eat."

"Speaking of which, she seems to have behaved oddly around Marla last weekend."

I shook my head and rolled my eyes. "You're sure she just couldn't take Marla's annoying her about the cheek of her to work in a man's job?"

Will closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Val, I do not share her opinions and you know that. But she is my wife and I love her. And you know how she is. She believes that you should not stress a pregnant woman. She wouldn't have..."

"To her, dear brother, Parker would never fall into the category of 'pregnant women'. She will always be a man-eating career bitch to her."

"Parker was acting erratically. You know I like her a lot, but Marla told me she practically fled the kitchen when she touched her arm."

I shook my head again, feeling as if I wasn't doing much else these days.

"She's under a bit of stress. It seems that her daughter has been drawing a person she calls Kenny just like Donald has. She is concerned that she came into some sort of contact with him."

Will looked sympathetic instantly, probably glad to get off the topic of his wife.

"I will look into it."

**Miss Parker**

Baxter's house looked as if it had been beamed here right from the Hollywood hills. All glass and rounded white sixties surfaces, it sat in the middle of a green garden that inexplicably grew palm trees in the middle of an east-coast September. Mentioning my name had taken me past the wrought iron gate faster than I had expected and so I parked in the driveway and leaned back into my seat for a moment. What the hell was I doing? In only three days I was supposed to do my very best to get a jury to stick him in jail for the best part of the next ten years, so why was I visiting? Because I had rambled nonsense before sinking into pregnancy-induced unconsciousness?

"What are you doing to me, little one?" I asked, resting my hand on my stomach and noticing for the first time that despite my very poor eating habits, the blouse I was wearing felt a little tighter than usual. Another thing that had escaped my attention due to other occupations of my mind. I needed to get this case off my chest, I decided, in order to get some of my sanity back- if that was still possible.

I got out of the car and slammed the door shut. Although adrenaline and a fair share of caffeine were buzzing through my system, I felt exhausted. Despite my whole bravado, I was a person who really needed her sleep, especially during times when hormones were acting crazy. Out of a seldom impulse I whipped out my blackberry and quickly typed a message to Jarod reading simply "Love you", then slid it back in my purse and approached the front door.

I was not surprised that it was opened upon my coming to a halt in front of it, but I certainly wouldn't have expected Baxter himself to greet me instead of the butler I had expected. He was wearing a loose white shirt and linen slacks and was carrying a martini in his hand. If I hadn't been so flustered, I would have laughed out loud. He was such a cliché.

"Ah, Miss Parker." His voice was warm and deep when he shook my hand and then grabbed it almost tenderly, to lead me inside. The hall was impressive, the ceiling impossibly high for a house that looked so small from the outside. The house only consisted of one floor which had a certain air of elegance due to the high ceilings and exquisite furnishing. Everything was white and beige with a few splashes of color like a painting in a deep red at the far side of the hallway.

He led me into a large sitting-room whose bay windows overlooked the town up from the hill.

"May I offer you a drink?" he asked, his hands pausing in midair above the liquor cabinet, but I declined politely so he gestured towards a couch whose design was as simple as it must have been expensive and took a seat across from me.

"As much as I enjoy your visit, I must admit I am very curious as for what I owe it to," he said, his words accompanied by a disarming smile.

Suddenly I wasn't sure how to begin, what to say at all, actually. Was I going to ask him point-blank? Would he even answer? I opened my mouth to speak but the decision was taken from me by a sharp pain in my abdomen. Gasping, I instinctively leaned forward and pushed my hand against my middle. I wasn't aware of Baxter's hand on my should until he spoke to me.

"Miss Parker? Are you alright?"

I took a deep breath and straightened up again slowly. All thoughts about the case were momentarily blown from my mind and even Baxter's being a criminal I was up against by law didn't matter.

"I don't know," I admitted, trying to determine whether there was more pain to come. Baxter took my hand. A very fatherly gesture, I noticed, dumbfounded. How could it be with the relationship our jobs had forced us into? A little unwelcome voice inside my head reminded me of another adversary relationship I had once been forced into. But this was different, wasn't it? The DA's office wasn't exactly an evil corporation and Charles Baxter was everything but an innocent fugitive.

"Take all the time you need. I am going to get you a glass of water." I felt him move from the couch but kept my eyes tightly shut. There was some discomfort left in my abdomen but no more cramps were following. Baxter returned with a glass of water but my hand was shaking too hard to hold it, so he wrapped his fingers around mine and supported my hand while I drank. Something about his taking care of me struck an odd chord in my heart and although I wasn't fooled, I felt a rush of warmth inside me. I very obviously had always had a problem with the fact that my father had not been much a paternal figure, so I was probably exceptionally susceptible to this kind of affection.

"Is this related to your fainting last week?" he asked and I could hear traces of concern in his voice. I reminded myself of the fact that I was in the house of a well-known criminal who, despite all his gentlemanly behavior, had come into contact with the man who had killed Donald. But what could he do about the information? Be careful, Parker, I warned myself, but something else was overpowering me, leaving me shocked and enthralled by my reply: "It is. I'm pregnant."

I was surprised to see his relief and only understood when he spoke: "So technically, the symptoms derive from a happy circumstance. I was worried you might be suffering from a life-threatening condition."

He smiled and touched my shoulder lightly. "How far along are you?"

"You're supposed to hate me, remember?" I blurted out, somewhat ignoring his question.

The look on his face was far from surprised and I felt foolish right away.

"Why would I, Miss Parker? You are just doing your job whereas I was doing mine. And you hate me neither, do you?"

No, I really couldn't say I felt anything even resembling hatred for him. Usually, I liked to try out how far I could go with a man until he either got angry or gave in to the humiliation and threw himself at my feet. This time I didn't care, which was a small wonder in itself.

"You're right," I admitted, somewhat grudgingly as this seemed to be a simple principle of life that I hadn't grasped while he had done so with a natural ease.

"I know this is weird, but while I was in love with your legs from day one of the trial, I found you very stunning as a person when I finally bothered to listen." What might have sounded macho with another guy, came across as a compliment when he said it, and I felt confused again.

"So how far along are you?" he repeated his earlier question in a conversational tone.

"Thirteen weeks," I said. "I don't get much rest these days with the case, so things aren't going too well."

"I got you right out of bed last night, didn't I?" he shook his head regretfully. "I was afraid it couldn't wait until morning." He smiled and offered me more water, but I declined.

"Mister Baxter, what I really came here for..."

"Please, call me Charles."

"Charles, do you remember what I said before I fainted at the closing?"

He grimaced, which reminded me of my father with a pang of sadness. As bad a father as he had been, I had still loved him and missed him, even if there wasn't much to miss.

"Actually, I didn't. I was too busy cursing my lawyer."

I couldn't hide my wicked grin. "Why did you hire him then?"

"I wonder. I guess he was the first who chased my ambulance. With all due respect to your profession, Miss Parker, I usually prefer to stay away from lawyers if I can."

"Your lawyer said I mentioned something about a place called the Centre."

I could already feel the rush of blood inside my ears while I hid my hands in my lap to avoid him noticing how badly they were trembling. I hadn't mentioned the Centre to anyone other than Jarod during the last five years. Sydney, Broots and I, as the former pursuing team, had silently and mutually decided not to mention the place and our inglorious past that was connected to it.

"The Centre." he said the words almost as gravely as if he did know what they really meant. His expression was unreadable, as if set in stone which was another thing that reminded me of my father. "Why would you mention that?"

"Yes", I said. "Why would I mention it?"

Ten minutes later I was back in my car, watched by Baxter who had repeatedly voiced his concerns about my driving in what he called my "state". He had told me that he had never engaged in any business with a place called the Centre and also didn't know whether I mentioned it. Had Steve Christian tried to make a fool of me, perhaps?

But he hadn't looked at me properly while he had said it and he had never asked what the Centre was. Suddenly my phone rang and as I answered it, Christine was telling me that my husband was cheating on me in a dirty bar outside town with a woman with curly red hair.

**Jarod**

Zoe's and my lips abruptly lost contact when an ear-shattering noise sounded very close to my left foot and I jumped to my feet, my reactions still finely tuned to any impending danger. Danger had arrived in the form of a shattered glass, thrown by what had first appeared to be a glassy-eyed drunk lady in a trench-coat and an old fashioned hat but now turned out to be my wife's best friend, Christine. Who was beyond furious.

"You mean bastard!" she yelled, her eyes darting around the room in search of something else to hurl at me. The barkeeper was already making his slow way over to remove her from the premises, but probably wouldn't be very lucky since Christine was not only strong but angry.

Tremendously so.

"Christine, please. It is not what it looks like!" I employed the world's oldest and dumbest words to explain a situation like this one.

"Oh REALLY?! Were you rehearsing for a goddamn play you little BASTARD?" Christine shouted. "I told her you weren't cheating! I told her you would never do such a thing! I was going to prove to her that your acting weird was just due to some surprise for her and you... you're kissing that little ferret!"

That was when Zoe tried to say something, but was simultaneously shushed by me and Christine. I knew Zoe had a temper, too and there was no need to make a bad situation worse.

"I am going to leave now and I will tell your wife that she married a goddamn RAT!"

And out she was. I remained standing, a hand over my face, listening to the patron's gibberish and Zoe's impatient replies.

"Zoe! For god's sake!" I looked at her angrily and saw her fold her arms defensively in front of her chest. "I told you this was over a long time ago."

"Oh, but I was good enough to help you with that little matter your wife isn't supposed to know about? Great, Jarod."

She rose and gave me a mean stare. "We accomplished it together and now you go running back to her, if she will still have you. I, personally, hope not. I can see that they hate her!"

"Zoe!" But she was already out the door.

The patron shook his head and gave me a toothless grin. "Got quite the knack for chasing away them ladies, eh?"

**Linda Hanson**

I was sitting in the comfortable chair I had used to nurse Donald in when he had been a baby and held on to his teddy bear when my neighbor came storming past me, tears in her eyes and her blackberry in hand. She didn't stop for condolences, which I was secretly grateful for. As long as no one said anything, I could prevent to myself that my baby was just at school like the other kids and that I would remain here on the porch, waiting for him to come home.

I knew that I would wait forever, but the tears wouldn't come - as much as I wished them, too. Miss Parker dropped her keys in front of the door, cursed and picked them up again, touching her stomach. So the rumors were true. Mrs Simmons had been round, telling me the latest gossip in town bringing another dish I wouldn't bother to identify but throw right into the trash. I just wondered what made her cry. What could be bad enough to make someone cry if I didn't have tears to cry over the dusty remains of my little one? I dug my fingernails into my forearm until I drew blood, then gave a dry sob.

**Jarod**

Miss Parker was in the bedroom when I came home and I walked in slowly, checking whether she was awake. Her eyes were firmly closed and her legs slightly bent but I knew she wasn't asleep. She was pretending again since I knew that even if she fell asleep in her clothes, she would always take her watch off. She usually rested her head on her right hand and so it would be in the way.

I sat down on the edge of the bed and addressed her softly: "Parker. Please talk to me."

The mascara was slightly smudged, so I was sure Christine had called her. She wouldn't let me see her cry- I had learned that on one occasion almost five years ago, so she tried to pretend she had been sleeping.

"What?" she asked, very close to how she still answered her phone.

"I know Christine called you. Let me explain."

Her gaze didn't waver, she didn't look as if she was going to accuse me, or beg me or cry. When she spoke, her voice sounded as distant as she seemed: "I had stomach cramps today, Jarod. I need to rest. Please leave me in peace."

I cursed the bad timing- why would this have to blow up in my face right the day the stress was finally taking its toll on her pregnancy?

"Are you okay?" I asked, reaching for her forehead in a doctor's automatism, but she moved away from me.

"I'm fine. You'll need to pick Sammy up from school." She closed her eyes again, turning her back at me.

"I'm sure Christine told you I was kissing Zoe, but I wasn't. She was kissing me and before I could do anything about it, Christine intervened. It must have looked consensual to her, but it wasn't. I swear."

She sat up slowly, her blouse crumpled and her hair ruffled. "Why would you be seeing Zoe anyway?" Curiosity seemed to have gotten the best of her for which I was eternally grateful.

Still, I would finally have to admit to her what I had been keeping a secret from her for the last five years.

"Parker, Zoe helped me find my family."

She swallowed and her eyes widened. "Your family?" she said feebly.

"Yes. I had clues but I couldn't follow up on them. I... the fishing holidays with Sydney? I never went there even once. I've been searching for my family two weeks a year, Parker. I love you so much and I am so happy we have Sammy, but I still couldn't let it rest. I didn't want to tell you to not make you feel as if you weren't enough for me." Once I was at it, words were pouring out of me and I couldn't stop them, but I didn't have to. Parker was listening intently, although her expression was still unreadable.

"Two weeks a year weren't enough and this one time I met Zoe by chance. I know I could have hired a private investigator, but I wanted someone I knew personally, someone I knew couldn't be associated to the Centre in any way. She agreed to help and do the traveling for me. She finally tracked them down, Parker. Finally! She gave me their whereabouts today and I wanted to thank her again. Then, when I told her how much she still meant to me - as a friend - she must have misunderstood and tried to kiss me."

I was suddenly out of breath and felt ridiculously relieved when I found that Parker's expression had softened. She reached out and touched my face.

"You finally found them!" she said.

"So you believe me?" I asked.

She smiled a secretive smile. "I know you're not lying."

**Miss Parker**

For the first time I was actually thankful that I possessed this inner sense since I knew with some clarity that he was telling the truth. I put my hand over his heart and pulled him into my arms.

"I am so happy for you," I said, hoping that it wouldn't sound hollow, because I did feel happy for him, but for myself I felt downright terrified. "Why didn't you tell me? I could have helped, Broots could have helped."

Of course I was dreading his answer, but I needed to hear it in order to crush my ridiculous hope that my fears would not prove to be justified. He put his hands on my shoulder as he always did when he tried to calm me down and somehow I knew that - like me - this way of him touching me always reminded him of the night I had thrown him out so he wouldn't see me suffer because I simply couldn't take it.

We both knew that this time I wouldn't be able to prevent him from seeing it.

"I didn't know how they would react if they learned that I was married to the daughter of the man who took me away from them."

"You mean to the merciless huntress who has been trying to track you down and tried to shoot you more than once," I said brusquely; he nodded. "Then how did they react to that?"

My heart contracted at the torn look in his eyes. I knew he wanted to be on my side but that he also couldn't deny who I was or had been.

"Zoe says my father just frowned but my mother and my sister..." he trailed off and I closed my eyes briefly. This was not going well. "She says they are apprehensive. You prevented me from seeing my mother that day and your brother tried to kill my sister... They..."

I decided to put him out of his misery by just stating it. "They hate me."

"Parker, I..."

"It's okay," I said softly. "I am a bitch. We both know that."

"You used to be..." he trailed off again, as if trying to find the right words, then continued: "... you were difficult, you still are, but you've never been a bitch."

I smiled despite how bad I felt: "You truly see the best in people, Jarod."

"I love you, Parker. Please don't forget that, but I want my family to be part of my life and of Sammy's."

"Of course. They will be, Jarod."

And I would be an unwanted part of theirs. I had always known that this day might come one day then why did I feel like my happy world was suddenly crashing at my feet?

**TBC**


	8. Part Eight

**Part Eight**

**Author's Note:** Everyone who read chapter seven before I corrected my mistake, please note that indeed the story is set near Washington, D.C. and not in Massachusetts. Obviously I begin to mix up my own stories since "In Dubio Pro Reo" is set partly in Boston. Am I getting old? :-)

* * *

**Miss Parker**

Jarod had been so relieved after finally spilling the beans about his secret search for his family, that he hadn't noticed my hesitation. I congratulated myself on finally having improved at hiding my feelings from people who knew me well. Unfortunately while I could present whatever facade I wished to the outside world, the people close to me would always see right through it. If Jarod had, he hadn't addresses the issue and since I knew he would never let it rest if he was aware of it, I was sure that his enthusiasm had overpowered him. After giving Sammy a very glossed-over version of why she had never met her grandparents and her aunt before and announcing that she soon would, Jarod had called his mother and talked to her for hours while I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling.

When he returned to the bedroom, his eyes were shining with sheer joy that I had seen for the last time when I had handed him his daughter for the first time. I swallowed, preparing myself for the inevitable.

"Gosh, have I been talking to them for three hours?" he asked, laughing breathlessly. "Seemed like two minutes."

"You've had a lot of catching up to do, " I said lamely, sitting up. He went round to his side of the bed and plopped down on it, his arms stretched above his head like a satisfied cat. His gaze was directed at the ceiling, but I could see that he was concentrating on the images before his inner eye.

"Emily is a teacher now. She loves working with kids! She's nuts about them. My father has recently retired and my mother and him are busy completely redecorating their house at the moment. My dad keeps hitting his thumb with the hammer, though." He laughed happily. "He seems to be as clumsy as I can be sometimes. And my mother is doing some voluntary work at the side. She works with people who have suffered trauma and lost relatives because obviously she can relate to them."

He turned towards me and rested his head on his elbow. "I don't think I've ever been happier in my life." He reached out and I let him pull me against his chest. "Just in time for our second child, I find my parents and they are thrilled!"

"Are they?" I asked carefully, hoping that they might be less appalled by their son's choice of partner, now, but the wave of guilt I felt coming from him told me otherwise. It is an occasionally handy, but not a comfortable thing at all if you can tell exactly when your husband is lying to you, even if he is doing it to avoid hurting you.

"I think they'll be okay with us once they've seen how happy you're making me."

"Good for you," I said, resting my head on his shoulder to prevent him from seeing the look on my face. They obviously hadn't been cooperative on the issue at all and he was trying to smooth things over.

"They are dying to meet Sammy!" he steered away from the dreaded topic. "I told them how smart she is and how beautiful."

So obviously he hadn't mentioned how much she looked like me. I just hoped they would at least like her because a child her age would not be able to understand if it were otherwise. I knew that Jarod's family had gone through a lot in their lives and how that could change good people. I wouldn't have been surprised if they showed their appraisal openly toward me. I just hoped they wouldn't do the same to Sammy.

"So when are you first going to see them?" I asked and he sat up with a start, almost bouncing with happiness. "They're living in California, so I will have to book a flight. I was thinking about taking Sammy."

No mentioning of me, of course. Although I was somewhat glad to be able to put off dealing with them a while longer, the realization hurt me. I knew he was trying to make this as easy as he could for me, so I didn't protest.

"When are you planning on going?"

"I told them I would have to wait at least for a few days since you're not well."

Great. They would probably think it my fault that they would have to wait even longer to see their son again. I wondered whether they'd think I was still trying to keep Jarod away from them.

"No, Jarod." I cupped his cheek. "I'll be alright. If anything happens I can still call Val or Christine. Please don't wait any longer just because of me."

He looked torn again for a moment, as if he was not sure where his loyalties lay with this new development, but my encouraging nudge seemed to do it for him.

"Okay." He was beaming, although he was trying to hide his excitement. "I'll go and tell Sammy and book a flight right away."

He pressed a quick kiss to my temple. "You sleep, okay? You look so tired."

And off he was. I snuggled into my pillow and stared at the opposite wall, knowing that despite my exhaustion, sleep wouldn't come easily, if at all.

**Val**

Christine, Skinny and I were crashing on my couch, all glasses of gin and tonic in hand although Skinny's was merely a prop, containing Sprite which she would not stop complaining about. She looked gloomy while Christine was positively pissed off. After ten minutes of blissful chit-chat on a topic as fundamentally important as shoes, she returned to what she really wanted to talk about.

"I still can't believe you bought Jarod's story!" she told Parker who rolled her eyes and took a large sip of her drink as if it really contained alcohol which might just have made the situation bearable.

"You allowed him to take your daughter to California to supposedly meet his family and you didn't even..."

"Christine!" Parker barked. "Stuff it. I told you he is not having an affair with Zoe, for god's sake. Trust my judgment, will you?"

"Her_ tongue_ was shoved all the way down his _throat_!" Christine emphasized, her hands thrown into the air in exasperation. I decided to put Parker out of her misery and threw a handful of chips at Christine.

"Don't put images in her pretty little head. She's already depressed enough as it is."

Christine brushed the chips off her sleeve and looked sympathetic.

"I'm sorry, pal. Just worrying about you, you know?"

"I don't need to be worried about. My husband has finally found his family. Period."

And he had decided not to tell her about it beforehand and instead seek the help of an old acquaintance slash ex-girlfriend who launched a spontaneous kissing-attack at him at the first opportunity that presented itself. Skinny was not the jealous type, but that scenario would even put her on guard.

"So whereabouts in California do they live?" I asked conversationally.

"I didn't ask," she replied flatly and reached for the Sprite bottle that sat next to the half-empty bottle of gin and the tonic. She wavered for a moment, then grabbed the tonic.

"You're not too happy about him going to see them, are you?" I asked, willing to penetrate the brick wall around her that she had once again erected to fool us into believing that she was invincible. Too bad that we were all using the same technique and effortlessly saw through a masquerade when we were presented with one. Good friend can be a bitch, sometimes, as I use to say.

"Of course I am happy for him. He's been looking for them for such a long time now."

"How were they separated anyway? Was he given up for adoption?" Christine asked, sipping her gin and tonic, oblivious to Parker's envious stare.

"Kidnapped," she answered in a clipped voice, and Christine's eyes went wide.

"What? You've never told me that. How sad! Who kidnapped him?"

Parker leaned back on the sofa and closed her eyes briefly, as if she had known that one day she would have to talk about it.

"My family."

**Christine**

When Parker had finished her story, even Val was rendered speechless for once. Her mouth stood open and she took a hearty swing of her drink.

"Man, Skinny. I never knew," she finally stated while I still tried to imagine Parker and good old Sydney chasing Jarod across the country before she lost her memories and fell in love with him - which she had probably been all along. This story was either very romantic or very dubious. From the look in her eyes, however, I knew that she was not joking. It seemed as if it was all very painful for her to remember and suddenly her often weird behavior seemed almost comprehensible. She was even more of a scarred soul than I had imagined. For the second time this week I just wanted to pull her close to me and tell her things would be okay.

"You both know that you will have to keep this a secret," she said and I suddenly realized that her telling us was more of a proof of friendship than anyone could expect from a character like hers. If I had needed more evidence that she trusted us completely, I had just received it.

"Your secret is safe with us," Val said reassuringly. "We are your friends, Skinny. You can trust us with anything."

I nodded with some emphasis because I could imagine how difficult it must have been for her to tell us. I grabbed her arm and squeezed it tightly to show her my support. Parker smiled a careful smile and for a moment I thought she looked happy, but then she went back to her previous gloominess.

"You can imagine just how happy Jarod's family is at the prospect of having to welcome the spawn of Satan into their family," she said sarcastically.

"You two have been married for five years and you're having his children. Shouldn't that be enough for them to be convinced that you're making him happy?" I asked.

"I believe they think I was just trying to escape prosecution by wooing him, so he wouldn't tell."

"That's bloody far-fetched, Skinny," Val said and I nodded my support.

"But they do disapprove of our marriage and I don't know how to deal with that. I mean, I know how to alienate people and defend myself, but this time I will have to try for a civil relationship with them for Jarod's and Sammy's sake."

She put down her glass and slung her arms around her knees. I had never seen her in such a state of defeat and felt like paying Jarod's parents a visit and throwing more glasses. It must have shown on my face because Val gave me a warning stare.

"Well, you know what, Skinny? I'm going to order us some good ol' American pizza and we will watch some pathetic flick on the telly." She stalked away in search of her phone while I remained staring at Parker.

"You're not convinced things will go well, are you?" I asked, inching closer.

She gave me a half-hearted smile. "I wish I were. I wonder who is going to snap first. Me or them."

She gritted her teeth very slightly, a gesture I knew very well from my own experience as a subtle means to suppress one's tears. Not the kind that makes you break down in sobs, but the the kind that only shows in your eyes.

"I am just worried that he will have to choose. And that he will choose them over me." She paused for a moment to gather herself. "I told you what my life was like before the Centre fell. I am impossible and difficult and a pain in the ass, but I couldn't bear being alone again."

"Parker," I said sternly, squeezing her hand very tightly. "You must know that you will never be alone again as long as I walk this planet."

"Yes, or as long as I grace this life with my ear-shattering existence," Val chimed in giving Parker a well-meant shove.

Parker placed her hand over her face for a moment and gave a mixture of a laugh and a sob.

"Stop! You're making me cry."

"Oh, we shall go on forever," Val announced.

"Yeah, we will tell you how wonderful a person you are..."

"... that you always brake for puppies..."

"... how much we adore the fact that you walk the streets giving flowers away..."

"... and that you're hugging stranger in the streets."

She looked pained when she removed her hand from her eyes.

"Oh come on. I will have to throw up again!"

**Miss Parker**

I only shed my tears in the privacy of my empty home when I returned. For someone who had never really had friends in her life, open support was overwhelming to say the least. I had wondered for a long time whether I should tell them the unbelievable story that was my past, but thanks to my sense I had finally been able to convince myself to do so. These two women were the most loyal people I could wish for and I had felt nothing but sympathy and comfort coming from them as I had finished telling my story.

Jarod hadn't called yet and I was tired, so I simply dragged myself upstairs, changed into my pajamas and went straight to bed. A storm seemed to be gathering outside and I heard heavy raindrops begin to patter against the leaves of the trees in our garden. Our house was spacious and fairly modern as we had bought it from a young couple who had just built it and then divorced due to an office affair. With a lot of time on my hands in the first few months of our living here, I had given it a good redecoration and so we were living in comfortable luxury. It was nothing like my old home and I had gone to great lengths to accomplish that.

Still, this familiar environment that had never brought me anything but comfort and joy made me feel just as alone as I had been feeling in my mother's summer house.

It was very quiet without Sammy and Jarod around and I was suddenly aware of the fact that I had only spent very few nights alone during the last five years. I gave myself a mental kick. When had I become dependant? Or maybe I hadn't and the problem lay elsewhere. Despite the nice evening with my friends and they're assurance that everything would be okay, I was terribly afraid of welcoming a different Jarod back into the house the day after tomorrow. One that had realized that I was not what he had been looking for.

I closed my eyes and pulled my covers up, listening to the storm while I was falling asleep.

"Miss Parker!" I snuggled deeper into the pillow for I had just fallen asleep and didn't want to listen to the loud whispering next to my ear. I was so tired lately and work didn't make it better.

"Miss Parker, please." I felt a cold breath at my neck and was startled awake, then instantly felt paralyzed with shock. Who was here in my bedroom? Who was talking to me in the middle of the night? My heart was pounding against my ribs and I listened for the next whispered words, realizing with a start that it was a child's voice.

"Miss Parker, please help me!"

"What?" I asked, my voice only a faint whisper itself, not daring to turn around.

"You need to find me before it's too late."

Very slowly I closed my eyes and turned around in my bed, the breath still on my face, now cool on the skin of my cheek. The whisper was gone and there was only the sound of someone breathing slowly, deliberately.

I opened my eyes, holding my breath with fear and was looking at a small shape in the darkness of my bedroom. A second later a bolt of lightening illuminated the room for a split second and I found myself faced with Donald who was staring at me with a fearful expression, his eyes wide and somewhat dazed- looking.

"I'm not dead," he whispered.

I screamed.

Sitting up in bed with a start, I felt my pajamas clinging to my body, my heart racing and my breath going raggedly. The sun was shining through the window and there was no sign of a child in the room. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to keep the panic at bay. Just a dream, Parker. Just a dream. I placed my hand on my heart, willing it to slow down. There was nothing to be afraid of. Nothing. I had been dreaming.

Or had I?

Two hours later I arrived at the office, skimming the mail on my way to my desk when Val maneuvered her impressive frame in my way, lifted an eyebrow and folded her arms in front of her chest.

"What do you think you're doing?"

I tilted my head slightly. "Going to my office. To work," I emphasized every letter of the last word to spell it out for her.

"Do I remember correctly that I told you last night that you were supposed to be off your feet for a few days in order not to endanger that precious child of yours?"

"Why? Sammy's fine," I said stubbornly.

"Don't play dumb!" She looked angry now. "I am not telling my employees to stay home for no good reason, Parker. I'm not doing this because you are my friend, but because I am your boss- and because I can," she added slyly.

Since my cool and bitchy attitude was a classic fail with Val, I resorted to other measures. "Please, Val. Let me work. I can't stand staying home alone."

"Read one of those novels you keep buying and get your skinny ass out of here!" Val threatened, so I turned around and hung my head in defeat.

Val clicked her tongue. "Didn't you forget anything?" I turned around and stared at her outstretched hand in defiance. "Don't make me."

But the look on her face didn't leave room for interpretation, so I grudgingly handed her the mail and went for the exit.

**Jarod**

Already ten minutes had passed since we had emerged from the gate, when Parker finally came hurrying towards us in flat black shoes without heels, a nondescript pair of black trousers and a casual long- sleeved sweater that was tight enough to make me notice that she was beginning to show, a sign that would be misinterpreted by anyone who didn't know about her pregnancy as a normal weight-gain. In other words: Something was terribly wrong with my wife.

"I'm sorry!" She gasped, crouching down in front of Sammy, who hugged her firmly. "Traffic was a bi... it was horrible. How was your flight?"

"Great!" Sammy announced, before I had a chance to answer. "The stewardess gave me chocolate and Daddy explained to me how the aircraft works!"

I gave Parker a sheepish grin when she looked up at me in disbelief.

"She found it interesting."

"She's five. You can tell her stories about sheep and lost cats, not explain aerodynamics to her." She kissed Sammy's forehead and straightened up again. "Well, let's go home. I suggest we order Chinese."

I was about to suggest myself that we had something more healthy, but with my PEZ addiction that I still hadn't got rid of, I decided that I would not dare to spoil my wife's rare appetite.

"Dim sum and then some?" I whispered into her ear, wiggling my eyebrows as we followed Sammy towards the doors of the terminal. Parker smiled back and grabbed my hand.

"Are you going to tell me what happened to you when I was away?" I asked sternly.

"Nothing," she stretched the first vowel which made her statement even less believable. "And don't cross me when I'm hungry."

"Okay, strange short woman without high heels or earrings, wearing a - dare a say it? - casual sweater that gives emphasis to her stomach."

She looked down in surprise and placed both hands on her stomach. "Oh damn, I didn't notice."

"It's not as if there was a reason to hide it, Parker."

"You blow up like a balloon and then you tell me about hiding your extra-weight."

"You know that one time when I pretended to be a sumo- wrestler..." I said jokingly, but before I could finish my sentence, she gave me a not so gentle shove.

"Stuff it, rat-boy."

"Be nice, ice-queen. There's a kid around."

We had arrived at the car and Sammy was rolling her eyes, waiting for us to unlock it while we were insulting each other between chaste kisses. Our relationship was a weird one that people often shook their heads on, but I couldn't have imagined it any other way.

"Mom, Dad," Sammy whined. "I wanna go home and you're embarrassing."

Parker gave a mock salute and went for the driver's seat while I settled in the passenger's.

**Sydney**

Sometimes I felt guilty about how interesting I found it to watch people interact although they were the people closest to me and they were clearly unhappy. The scenario played out in front of me led Miss Parker and Jarod to unknowingly unravel all that was inside them. Of course, they were both so caught up in themselves, that they did not notice it. Considering their past, it was almost unbelievable how much they loved each other and how well they had sailed so far. There had been troubled waters in the past which were mostly due to their completely different personalities. Sometimes Parker couldn't stand Jarod's cheerfulness and his ability to make friends with almost everyone he met - sometimes she secretly envied him for, in my humble opinion - and sometimes Parker's curtness and general social inability that she often displayed as something deliberate annoyed Jarod to no end. But basically they possessed the seldom ability to love the other without resentments. I had often seen Parker ruffle Jarod's hair affectionally after he had been enthusing about something at length or overheard Jarod telling Miss Parker, how special he felt about being the only person on the planet who was in her good graces.

There had only been one major crisis that had made me fear that they would not be able to reconcile, but they had given it their best and made it through it. I was worried, though, that it would happen again. The last time had been five years ago and Miss Parker had come a long way from then while Jarod had learned to understand her better but if the same thing happened twice, there was a good chance that this time they would not be able to mend the damages.

Jarod finding his family was just another aspect that endangered their relationship right now. Jarod and Sammy were taking turns telling us about the wonderful time they'd had with Jarod's family. Jarod seemed to be glowing with the first taste of being a son and brother that he had got. Of course he wasn't the person he had once been because during the previous five years he had experienced family life, but that had been different. The feeling of being someone's son, of - for once - being the one who was protected, not the father or husband who was responsible for the family in a way, was something that couldn't be underestimated. He had talked to me often about how much he wanted to find his parents and sister but when I had tried to persuade him to talk to Parker about the fact that our supposed fishing-holidays didn't involve his fishing, he had always become evasive.

Now the secret was out in the open and Parker looked less than enthusiastic. She was picking her dinner aimlessly, but smiled every time her daughter or husband looked at her. Neither seemed to notice the rumbled napkin in her hand or the amount of force she needed to put into her cheerfulness. She looked tired and her outfit was far from her usual attire, which I was somehow sure was not connected to the simple fact that she was pregnant.

Jarod was blissful and obliviously so. Although as a Pretender he naturally was an expert on the human mind, his new-found happiness seemed to overwhelm him to the point where he failed to see his wife's predicament. I couldn't hold it against him, though, since it was more than understandable and even Parker, who didn't forgive easily if at all, did her best to be supportive- a word that only five years ago, nobody would have associated with her unless it came to someone who wanted to jump off a roof.

I wondered when they would clash. Miss Parker tried hard, but she would never be even-tempered even though the requirement to be tough at her job gave her an outlet that normally took the edge away.

I caught her eye over the table while Sammy and Jarod tried to compete with each other about who had eaten more of his mother's special German chocolate-cake and found a glittering in it that I didn't like. I gave her a reassuring smile, but she didn't return it. When she was angry with someone she didn't dare to cross - like it had often been with her father - she often tried to find someone else she could take her anger out on. She had also improved when it came to that, but dealing with what she had once confessed to me was her greatest fear - besides admitting weakness, which I had not mentioned then - wasn't going to bring out the best in her.

"Little Miss, isn't it very late for you to be staying up?" I asked Sammy who had just finished a bowl of ice-cream. I turned towards Jarod and gave him a pointed look whose meaning he grasped right away.

"Syd is right, Sammy. Let's go upstairs and I'll read the rest of the book to you, that grandpa has given you!"

And off they were. Miss Parker got up abruptly and started to clear the leftovers of the Chinese takeout away methodically while I did my best to help without getting in the way.

"Leave it, Sydney," she said curtly. "You're our guest."

I ignored her and began to fill the dishwasher. While I was still wondering whether I would ask her right away or wait for her to come around herself, she crossed her arms in front of her chest and cocked her head slightly.

"So, Sydney. Do we start the therapy lesson now or do we wait for the coffee to brew?"

"Excuse me?" I decided to play dumb.

"I am not intellectually challenged, Syd. I've seen the look you gave Jarod." I could hear from her strained tone of voice that although she actually felt like yelling, being rude alone made her feel better already. I decided to let it slip.

"Okay, I've been meaning to ask you about how you were dealing with the situation."

"Situation?" she snapped. "What, everyone's incredibly happy. What situation would we be talking about?" She spat out the last two words while she slammed the dishwasher shut. Turning around, she looked into my eyes and her shoulders fell in defeat.

"I'm doing it again, Sydney. I am making you suffer because I am feeling like shit. I'm sorry."

"It's good that you notice without me reminding you," I said gently. "You have improved greatly, Parker. Don't forget that, okay? You will get through this."

"With or without losing my sanity?" she asked, only half-joking.

"You think they hate you," I stated, giving her room to elaborate so she could put her feelings into words, which was always a means to be able to deal with them better.

"I don't think so. I know, Sydney. I can tell what Jarod feels. He is afraid of telling me that they don't only disapprove of me but actually really hate the fact that I'm in his life."

I could only guess what they would think of me, but decided not to go there right now.

"It's okay, Parker. You've done nothing wrong- You were a victim yourself. A victim of the circumstances." Unlike me, whom I had succumbed to the questionable ethics willingly, without being raised and indoctrinated in the Centre.

"It is not okay!" Her temper was flaring up again, or maybe she was just distressed. "I am exactly the woman they think I am. They obviously have no idea how Jarod could love me and neither have I."

It was obvious that the last sentence had slipped her, and she turned pale at her own confession, turning away from me and holding on to the kitchen-counter once again. Her shoulders were trembling very slightly, but she was not crying. She wouldn't cry in front of me. Or anyone.

"Parker, that's not true..."

"I've deprived him of so many things, Sydney. You know exactly what I did to him even after the Centre. And I just can't help myself. I can't be someone I am not... although I'm trying for god's sake!"

There were tears in her eyes when she whirled around to face me, but she blinked them away furiously.

"Parker," I wasn't going to tell her to calm down although I really thought she needed to. "What you're saying is not true. You have always been compassionate and loving. That side of you just needed time to develop and it still does. Don't rush yourself."

She looked defeated now and I dared to approach her to offer her an embrace which she stepped into hesitantly.

"I don't want to be one of those sweet women who smile constantly," she complained quietly. "I just want to be me in a more loveable version."

"I can't even begin to be tell you how lovable you are, Miss Parker," I said honestly while I was holding on to her.

**TBC**


	9. Part Nine

**Part Nine**

**Jarod**

I almost fell out of bed with shock when I was woken up by Parker's thrashing and groaning next to me. The nightmares she had been experiencing every night when we had first moved here had stopped a long time ago and since then I hadn't seen her like that.

"Parker," I whispered as not to startle her and gently grabbed her shoulder to calm her. Her eyes flew open and she obviously needed a moment to orientate herself, then sat up shakily, reaching for the glass of water she always kept on her bedside table. Draining its contents, she closed her eyes and leaned back against the headboard, taking deep breaths.

"Is that why you are so tired? Have you been having nightmares again while I was in California?"

She gave me a fleeting look without answering my question.

"Were they about the Centre again?" I inquired further.

"No." I waited for her to elaborate but she didn't, but put the glass back, pulled her duvet up and turned her back at me. I frowned and inched closer to her, my arm comfortably slung around her middle.

"Are you still worrying about the baby?" I asked, kissing her earlobe to which she reacted with a nervous tilting of her head.

"I will be worrying about our children for the rest of my natural life and if the horror movies I've seen are anything to go by, even beyond it."

Her response was evasive to say the least, so I wove my fingers through hers and squeezed her hand slightly. "We have come quite a way from keeping important things from each other, don't you think?" I asked soothingly. "What was your dream about?"

She finally turned around to face me, but I couldn't tell whether she didn't want to be in my arms or whether she really wanted to look at me.

"I've been having dreams about Donald," she finally confessed. "He's standing next to my bed every night, telling me that he is not dead and that I must find him."

I succumbed to shocked silence for a moment, while a chill went down my spine.

"The same dream? Every night?" I asked and she nodded.

"Exactly the same scenario every time for three nights."

People are known to dream variations on themes that lurk around their subconscious, but having exactly the same dream several nights in a row was odd indeed. No wonder she looked exhausted if she always woke up like that and spent her sleeping time thrashing.

"That's a weird dream."

"Jarod, I am not even sure it is really a dream."

I couldn't help but frown at her statement. I must have looked patronizing, because her face hardened instantly. "You don't believe me."

"I am not even sure what it is you want me to believe. What would it be if it was not a dream?" I tried to reason with her. Maybe she was just confused from waking up with such a start in the middle of the night? Okay, whom was I trying to fool?

"Neither am I, but I don't think Donald is dead."

I tried my hardest not to sigh and succeeded- but only just. She had seen even through the half-darkness of our bedroom that I was not convinced and shook her head in despair.

"Jarod, I know you don't believe in what I have told you about what's happening to me."

I interrupted her before she could say more. "I do believe that something has changed, but are you sure it's not just the stress getting to you? With the long hours at work and all those hormones..."

She cut me off sharply. "Don't reduce me to a bunch of hormones, Jarod. I know about hormones. They make me cry at inappropriate times or want to jump you in public. This is different."

I still couldn't be convinced since the whole concept was just too airy for me. What exactly was she trying to tell me? As a Pretender I had been all kinds of things and I had learned that behind most of things that seemed inexplicable, there were very real hoaxes. I had learned not to believe in the supernatural and I didn't see a reason to start now. My wife was a complicated woman and she was still haunted by the Centre and the circumstances of her last pregnancy. Maybe another baby and the sad events surrounding Donald had taken their toll on her and she tricked herself into believing in some sixth sense that wouldn't make her feel so helpless faced with the danger that Sammy was in, too. But how could I say this delicately?

"Parker, maybe you should just take some more time off at work and find a way to really relax for a while. You need your rest right now and you..."

She closed her eyes in frustration, then opened them again and allowed me to look into them. There was no confusion or stress showing there. She looked utterly calm and for the first time my conviction wavered.

"Jarod, you know me. I wouldn't believe it if I didn't know. I am a prosecuting attorney for god's sake! I need evidence before I even come close to accepting the truth. I know how it feels from when Lyle brought me back to the Centre, from when I was down in that sublevel, from when I was unconscious at the hospital!"

We had never talked about what had happened at the Centre that day, since we had both been too happy to leave it all behind and thus hadn't tried to work it out.

"What happened there?" I asked.

"Raines told me about Project Cassandra and he also told me that my mother had had the same ability when she was pregnant with me. Jarod, he said she saw you and told them where to find you."

I shook my head, not at all happy with what she was saying.

"Since when do you believe the things Raines is telling you?"

"Why would they have sent me to get pregnant to you otherwise, Jarod? Why would they have paid Thomas to do it? Do you think they'd act on such a flawed plan if they didn't have scientific proof of their theory?"

I was beginning to become desperate here. Was she even listening to herself?

"Parker!" I said with more force than I had intended. "Raines was going nuts with the prospect of the Centre falling. He would have believed anything. Your father probably just liked the idea of another Pretender. And look at Sammy: They would have had a field day with her. She has your smarts and instinct and my Pretender gene. Do you have any idea how quickly she understood what I was telling her about the aircraft? The stewardess nearly dropped the orange-juice when she overheard."

Parker shook her head. "Isn't there something else about her that you have noticed?"

I was confused for a moment, unsure of what she was playing at.

"She knew I was pregnant before we told her and she also knew that it is a boy."

"So?" I asked, barely able to control the anger in my voice.

"When I was little, I could do the same. I was with Raines when they killed my mother." The memory still gave her face the frightened look I had seen back then. "He was urging me on to concentrate on her and I knew that something was wrong and that she was about to die. I saw her, Jarod."

"Are you trying to tell me now that Sammy is a medium, too?" I realized too late that I had just made fun of her and she didn't take that well. Her eyes darkened and she shook her head.

"Jarod, I know with some certainty that Donald is not dead. He is alive and the burned remains we have found are not his. I will prove it and I will find this poor little boy."

With that she climbed out of bed and walked towards the door.

"Where are you going?" I asked for lack of a better question, since I was still far too confused by what she had been telling me.

"I'll go sleep in the guestroom," she said, then left without another word.

**Miss Parker**

"Coffee?"

I looked up at Val and the cellophane cup that accompanied her and accepted it with a weak smile.

"I just screwed up in there, didn't I?"

She sat down next to me on the bench of the empty courthouse corridor and shrugged.

"Well, not really. At least you didn't faint. Sorry," she added when she realized that the joke wasn't going down well. "The new attorney was obviously smarter than the old one and Baxter had the jury wooed with his testimony. That's just the problem with our system..."

She took a sip of her own coffee and screwed up her face. "... jury-members like to confuse reasonable doubt with their attraction to the defendant and then the guilty walk free."

She patted my thigh. "Don't beat yourself up. You could have presented a picture of him holding a bloody knife next to a dead body and they would have been babbling on about reasonable doubt."

I gave her a gracious smile and took a sip of my coffee. "God, this is gross!" I exclaimed.

"And I actually had to pay for this poison. What about me treating you to lunch?"

I accepted her invitation and followed her towards the exit where Baxter was just dismissing his attorney with one of his beaming smiles and a pat on the shoulder. The lawyer, Clifford Denton, smiled at me when I approached. He was a stern but friendly man who had graduated top of his class at Harvard and was about the complete opposite of Steve Christian.

"Hello Miss Parker, Val," he touched Val's shoulder and grinned. He had been a year ahead of Val at law school and I strongly suspected her to have a soft spot for him although of course she would never admit it.

"Hi Cliff," Val said. "Nice work in there. Just don't expect to get your clients off every time from now on."

"Ah, Val. I wouldn't stand a chance against you since you could just outtalk me in volume."

While they continued to tease each other, Baxter turned to me and addressed me in his kind voice.

"How are you feeling, Miss Parker?"

"Good, thank you."

"Yes, it looked that way in the courtroom. Now we technically aren't adversaries anymore, are we?"

I lifted the corner of my mouth subtly. "Technically."

I would have never confessed it to anyone, but I was almost glad he had been acquitted- A fact that should have made me reconsider my choice of career, but as embarrassing as it was, I had somehow become another victim of his charm.

"Then would you allow me to take you out to dinner sometime?"

I shot a sidewards glance at Val, but she was too busy insulting her old friend to even notice what was happening around her, so I shook my head slightly.

"I don't think that is such a good idea, Charles."

"Maybe you're right, Miss Parker. Although I regret it. Please call me if you decide to change your mind."

He handed me a business card and gave me a look that made me regret my refusal. A dinner date would have been a nice diversion from the uneasy tiptoeing around each other that was going on at home. Since I had moved out of the bedroom, Jarod and I were trying hard to act normal around our daughter while we avoided at all costs to be alone with each other.

I had to admit to myself that I was crushed that he refused to believe me. I knew I could have had Sydney explain it all to him. Maybe he would listen to his old mentor who had seen both me and my mother with his own eyes. Even though it seemed a relieving prospect, something was holding me back: What good would it do me to see that he trusted Sydney's judgment over mine?

Worst of all, he had invited his family for his birthday next month. He had only found out his actual date of birth from his parents and while we usually ignored mine (because I hated to be reminded of being another year older) and only celebrated Sammy's, he was eager to have everyone he loved around. I wondered whether that included Zoe.

"Would you forgive me if I was meddlesome enough to tell you that you looked very beautiful today?" He asked and I couldn't help but smile. He seemed to sense people's insecurities just like I did, but help them overcome them instead of rubbing it in their faces.

"Thank you," I said for a lack of a better response, then excused myself due to the urgent ringing of my phone.

"What?" I asked when I didn't recognize the number.

"This is Margaret."

Jarod's mother? I excused myself from Baxter and Val by means of a raised hand and quickly walked down the corridor for some privacy, the phone pressed to my ear. My heart was beating quickly and I wondered what I owed this call to, feeling myself getting nervous already.

"Michelle, Jarod doesn't know I am calling."

My first name hit me like a brick, but I didn't dare to protest.

"So why are you calling?" I hadn't meant to sound rude, but I probably did because Margaret's tone changed and became a bit more clipped.

"He told me about your violent morning sickness."

I lifted an eyebrow in annoyance and was glad at the same time, that we were not talking face to face. So what Jarod had told his family about me was the tale of my undignified retching into a toilet- great.

"Yes," I said carefully.

"I thought you might want to try aroma therapy. It is a good way to relieve the symptoms."

Aroma therapy? I would have told anyone else to go to hell and take their esoteric bullshit with them, but tried my best to appear interested with Jarod's mother. At least she was somewhat reaching out to me. Her voice sounded forced, though.

"I haven't heard of that, yet." I said. "Thank you for the suggestion. I would be glad if it helped."

I couldn't believe that I was walking down a court corridor talking to my mother in law about pathetic remedies for morning sickness. Who had written the script for this movie? Because it sucked.

"Yes. I just thought I'd let you know."

"Thank you," I said again, feeling stupid.

"Well, I guess I'll see you next month, then. October 17, you know. We have been getting together for Jay's birthday ever since he was taken from us."

Touchy topic. Steer away.

"Yes, umm... I think it will be a nice evening." Trying to be nice had never been my strong point but this was downright ridiculous.

"I hope so. Well, see you, Michelle and good luck with the aroma therapy."

"Thank you again. Goodbye, Margaret."

I hung up and remained standing there for a moment, shaking my head. "Aroma therapy," I told myself in the nasty voice I would have so loved to use on Jarod's mother. "Strike me down now, lord."

**Jarod**

"Hey ya, Jarod. How's the wifey?" My friend and colleague, James Thunder stood in the doorway, presenting me with two bottles of cold beer. I wasn't one for alcohol and if I drank it was usually wine, but I had understood that very often the concept of male- bonding involved beer, so I accepted one of the bottles.

"Has been a busy day, hasn't it?" he asked.

I nodded. "Flu, broken foot and a marble in a nose."

"Kids _are _crazy," James stated. He was the local dentist whose practice resided in the same building as mine, just across the hall. He was the type of guy who played practical jokes and was almost as childish as I was. Being a bachelor, he shared his house with a rising number of play station games and owned an entire collection of cartoons on DVD. We had spent more than just a few evenings at his place and I considered him a good friend.

"Yeah, maybe they are."

"What are you up to tonight? Feel like another season of Family Guy?" he asked, grinning and gulping down a fair amount of beer.

I wondered for a moment, then shrugged. The situation at home was awkward and Parker was in full ice-queen mode whenever we were alone, so it wouldn't hurt to stay away from her for a bit.

"Let me just send Parker a message." I quickly typed "home late", then hit "send".

"Okay, I am ready."

**Miss Parker**

"Home late," I murmured, shaking my head in frustration when I finally got round to reading the text message Jarod had sent two hours before. He could have written "banging Zoe" or "avoiding you" for all it was worth. I hurled the phone onto the bed and left the bedroom to check on Sammy. She was sitting up in her own bed, waiting for me.

"Where's Daddy?" she asked, right on cue to once again force me to keep my temper at bay in order to avoid having my daughter think I was a raging maniac.

"He'll be home late because he has to work," I did what mothers have been doing since the beginning of mankind: I sugarcoated an ugly truth, hoping that she would remain blissfully unaware of the fact that their parents' relationship was on the rocks right now.

"He was going to read my book to me. Grandpa has given it to me." She held out a large volume that would keep me occupied with reading and preoccupied with its donor and his wife for weeks. Talk about stress-reduction.

"Then move over, Sweetie," I told her and climbed into bed with her settling comfortably among the army of teddy bears and toy cats that watched over her sleep every night.

"Mommy, you're sitting on Bernie," Sammy warned sternly and I got up again to retrieve the teddy bear. "I'm sorry," I told him, then settled him between us. After five years of being a mother, I was not feeling stupid talking to toys anymore.

Sammy handed me the book and smiled up at me. "We are where Daddy has stuck the bookmark." Thank you, genius of a husband.

I looked at the cover and found that I would be reading "The Beauty and the Beast" to her. And once again, how fitting.

When I had finished the chapter I leaned over and kissed the top of her hair, enjoying the scent of my child's hair. When she had first been born, I had tiptoed into her room every night and kissed her forehead to enjoy her sweet scent. I hadn't been able to believe that she was actually real without it.

"I love you, little one," I told her in a rush of love and pulled her close to me which made her laugh.

"Can you tell me about the night I was born, Mommy?"

Her expectant look cut through me like glass and I had a hard time preventing it from showing on my face. Still, I knew she could tell anyway.

"What's wrong, mommy?" she asked and I gave her a reassuring smile.

"It's alright, baby. There's not much to tell actually."

"Tell me anyway."

Where would I start? I wondered how much I could tell her because she was still too young to understand the other things that had been going on at that time. Like the complications and what I had done to her father.

"Well, your father drove me to hospital and you were born at 7 o'clock in the morning. The doctor handed you to me and I could see you for the first time. To me you were the most beautiful thing I had ever seen."

"Did it hurt?" she asked and I had such a violent flashback that I almost allowed the fear to show on my face.

"_I... I can't breathe, Jarod... Oh...my..."_

I touched my throat as if it would take the memory away that gave me the feeling of being suffocated even now. "These things hurt, baby. But that's not for you to think about. It was all forgotten when you looked at me for the first time."

I pulled her close again and stroked her hair gently while she snuggled up to me and placed her hand on my stomach.

"He can feel that, you know," she explained. "I think he likes it."

Jarod had been reading every book on pregnancy and babies that he could get his hands on, but I had been too busy trying to repress my sense and recover from my stunt at the Centre, so I didn't really know whether she was right. If so, maybe Jarod had told her. Or maybe she could just tell. Just like I had been able to tell that the courteous, friendly little boy at the Centre had a great dark abyss inside him whose origins back then I hadn't understood.

"Do you?" I paused, wondering whether this was the moment to ask her. "You did just know you would have a brother, didn't you?" I asked and she gave me a wide sure smile.

"Yes," she said simply. "I knew. I knew since Christine's summer party. I don't know how."

I couldn't begin to tell Sammy how relieved I was to hear that. I wasn't the only one with hunches that proved dead accurate, but my daughter was just the same. We did share this sense and besides making me feel even closer to her, it also calmed me and relieved me of the fear that maybe Jarod was right and I was just another victim of burn-out-syndrome.

"Mrs Jenkins said pregnant women are not allowed to drink wine," she said and I giggled involuntarily.

"That's why you were suddenly clumsy and made me drop my glass!"

She smiled shyly. "You were so angry with me."

"Why didn't you just tell me about the baby, Sammy?"

"I don't know." She shrugged. "I thought you would ask me why I knew."

I sat up to look into her eyes. "Baby, you can tell me anything. And besides, I know how it feels. I knew things a as a little girl, too. And so did your grandma."

"Really?" Sammy's eyes widened. "So I am not just weird?"

I laughed. "You're my daughter- I am sure that makes you a bit weird, but no. You have a gift, but you have to use it wisely. Promise me that?"

"What do you mean, wisely?" She furrowed her brow.

"Don't use it against anybody. Don't tell things you know about people you're angry with." The sole fact that she looked scandalized at the prospect of revealing secrets about someone, or maybe even about being truly angry with a human being, showed me how much of Jarod was in her.

"Mommy! I would never do that!"

"Very well." I kissed her temple. "You don't have to think that you're weird, okay? Just don't tell anybody about your gift because people tend to make of things they don't understand."

She nodded solemnly when there was a cough from the door. There was Jarod, wearing a leather jacket for the first time in months, looking grim. The dark expression vanished from his face when Sammy looked up at him, too.

"Daddy!" she beamed, reaching her arms out for him. He approached her and gave her a firm hug, only acknowledging my presence with a pointed look over her shoulder.

"It's time to sleep, honey. Your mother and I have something to discuss."

"Good night." We took turns kissing her goodnight after which Jarod switched the light off and - against his usual routine of leaving the door slightly ajar- closed it firmly behind us. When he turned around, he looked positively angry. I could smell beer on his breath when he approached me to talk to me properly for the first time since our dispute in the bedroom.

"What were you telling her about?" The question sounded rhetoric.

I understood why he was angry and sighed inwardly. He had obviously overheard what I had been telling Sammy about our mutual sense.

"It's not enough that you lose sight of reality with yourself, you have to put fancies into her head, too!" He looked at me intently and grabbed my wrist not painfully, but still with some force, trying to bring me to my senses, ironically.

"You need help, Parker. You need to take time off from work and see a psychologist about your issues. I'm worried about you!"

My frustration grew with every word he said and as it became clearer that, no matter what I'd say, he wouldn't believe a word of it.

"Don't tell me about issues, Jarod!" I admonished him. "Don't come home all drunk and insult me like that. I would never try to influence Sammy just to make a point!"

I had seen Jarod that tremendously angry with other people often, but he was usually more gentle with me.

"I am not drunk, Parker. I've had a few beers which is nothing compared to what you and your girlfriends put away when you're out!"

"Okay, then it's even worse that I cannot make myself believe that your allegations are simply down to the fact that you can't hold your liquor!"

"I am trying to help you!" he almost shouted as we made our way as far away from Sammy's room as possible. He shut the kitchen door behind us with a bang and faced me fully.

"You've never opened up about your issues, Parker and now it's getting to you!"

"So what are the issues you keep talking cryptically about?" Maybe I was trying to torture myself but at least I regretted what I had said as soon as the words had left my mouth.

"Where would I begin!" He threw his hands up into the air. "You still treat people like shit, you're unable to cry in front of your own husband, your family was horribly screwed-up and the only friends you have are just as grim and cynic as yourself!"

The look of shock on his own face at what he had just told me didn't help me much and I was horrified when I felt tears stinging in my eyes. The problem was, that with Jarod I could be sure that he didn't just say things to hurt me, but only to bring me to my senses. So this was his real opinion of me. And it stung horribly. I could have justified myself, yelled at him and told him how many hours I had spent on the phone with Sydney, trying to come to terms with my being so damn twisted. I could have reminded him of how hard I was trying to get the snappy, neurotic side under control or how overwhelming the urge to run was, when I was about to show weakness.

But I didn't. I simply walked towards the door to flee, absolutely unable to endure his presence any longer while I had finally been presented with proof of what I had blurted out to Sydney just two nights ago. Even Jarod couldn't stand my being a train wreck forever and although I was improving, it would never be fast enough.

Jarod contributed further to my misery by stepping into my way, so I couldn't get to the door. I was tall and strong, but I knew I would never stand a chance against him, so I simply clawed at his arm, desperate for him to allow me to leave.

"Step aside!"

"I won't let you run away again, Parker. You've been running from me and from yourself for five years now."

I had to use all my strength to keep my voice steady. "Let. Me. Go."

"Or what?"

I turned on my heel and walked towards the other end of the living-room, turning my back at him, while I was busy blocking out his harsh words that were on a continuous loop inside my head. As frantic inside as I was stony outside, I hadn't heard him approach and jumped when he put his hands on my shoulders, standing behind me.

"I love you, Parker," he said in a very sad voice that seemed to be foreshadowing a major "but", but he remained silent after saying it.

"How could you, Jarod?" I asked huskily. "I don't fit into your happy new little word. I am who I am and I am trying to improve, but I am obviously unable to live up to your new standards."

With that I went for the door and grabbed my car- keys from the counter in passing.

**TBC**


	10. Part Ten

**Part Ten**

**Jarod**

"Please, Sir. Would you just calm down."  
The young female doctor looked stern in her white lab coat, but exhaustion was showing in her eyes when she finally released her firm grip around my wrist and led me towards a group of chairs.  
"Your wife is still in surgery. You can see her later."  
"How is she?" I inquired, the distress ringing in my voice. "I need to know whether she's okay. We've had a fight before she left... She practically fled our house."  
The doctor's voice was calm with a warm sort of confidentiality.  
"She has broken bones and a concussion from the accident, but she will be okay." She took a deep breath, obviously aware of the fact that the I was yet to be told about the most difficult aspect. I felt myself tense.  
"There was nothing we could do about the baby, though. I am sorry, but she had a miscarriage."  
I couldn't help myself with all the guilt and grief that was suddenly washing over me. My words had caused Parker to crash her car and lose our child. She would never forgive me or herself for that. I fell into one of the chairs and rested my elbows on my thighs, burying my face in my hands.  
"Sir," I looked up at the blond doctor. She looked truly sorry.  
"Yes?"  
"I'm not sure whether I should be telling you this, but... you should be warned. Your wife was crying when she was admitted. She was in so much pain that she was obviously aware of the fact that she would lose the child. She said it was your fault and that you killed the baby." She furrowed her brow. "She also said that she didn't want to live if she lost her little boy." Her face suddenly changed and her eyes grew cold and unforgiving.  
"You killed your wife, Jarod."  
I woke up with a start, almost falling off the couch I had fallen asleep on. Panting from the nightmare, I dizzily looked around me, but nothing awaited me but the empty living-room. After consulting my watch I stumbled to my feet and made for the kitchen, gulping down half a bottle of water at once. There was no word from her, although I had tried calling her dozens of times.  
I started to pace once again, replaying our conversation over and over in my head. I hadn't meant to hurt her. I would have never tried to make her feel bad about herself if I hadn't been that damned worried about her. She didn't eat enough and she was starting to act oddly. The dreams about Donald and the ensuing sleep deprivation had probably caused her condition to deteriorate. I once again mentally cursed myself for missing her doctor's appointment. I had been with Zoe at that time, figuring out how to proceed once she had found the first solid lead on my parents.  
My wife was a difficult person and she could be extremely annoying on bad days, but she was also loving and willing to make our family work. Sometimes I just wondered whether she was mentally capable of it. Back when she had been released from hospital five years ago, there hadn't been a question whether we would move in together to raise our child. There had never been talks about another option which, after our earlier difficulties and my initial plan to run with the child once she had given birth, had been somewhat surprising.  
Still, we had simply moved along swiftly. I had proposed to her, she had accepted and we had had a very small ceremony. We then had bought our house and Parker had gone to lengths making it into a comfortable home. I hadn't known that she had it in her, but naturally I hadn't known all that much about the private side of my huntress.  
I had been amazed at how the woman she had been during her amnesia and the old Miss Parker had blended into each other and although she was not the woman I had lived with during my time at the hospital, I had fallen in love with her all over again.  
She had stayed home with Sammy the first year while I had opened my practice in town, but had later suddenly confronted me with the fact that she had applied for a job at the DA's office and landed it. She had been determined to make it all work and I could only be amazed at her strength and the amount of organization she had to put into all of it.  
Still, it had been another side of her. The independent one. The one that wouldn't talk to me before applying for the job, but would only confront me when I couldn't have objected anymore.  
I ran a hand through my hair and walked into the hallway, nervously toying with my car-keys. How long would it take Sydney to get here to take care of Sammy while I went out to look for Parker, I wondered. Checking my watch, I realized that it was well past midnight. Sydney was an early riser and consequently went to bed early, too. By now he would be in a deep sleep phase and I didn't have the heart to wake him.  
I dropped the keys in sudden defeat and walked up the stairs into our abandoned bedroom. Sitting down on the bed, I finally acknowledged that waiting was all I could do for now.

**Miss Parker**

**  
**I had been fully prepared to drive my car to some remote location and sob my heart out until my head hit the stirring wheel with exhaustion, but it had never happened. After I had left the house and got in the car, the ringing of my cell phone had startled me and made my hands shake even worse.  
I had been about to ignore the call and just mute the phone when I had been faced with Val's cell phone number. Picking up quickly, her deep voice had managed to calm me down instantly, despite the bad news it delivered.  
"Are you home?"  
I had rested my head against the window at that question, somewhat overwhelmed by it.  
"Sort of," I had finally managed to choke out.  
"Well, good. I'll be with you in ten. The ME's already there. Something's happened at the Hanson's."  
I was instantly alarmed, automatically turning my attention towards the neighbor's house which looked peaceful enough except for the flashing lights of a police cruiser that I had previously missed in my state of emotional uproar.  
"What happened?" I asked, my knees going weak despite the fact that I was sitting down. An image was flashing through my mind like a bolt of lightning illuminating a room and I had to use every ounce of strength I had in me to prevent myself from screaming.  
"You okay?" Val's voice sounded from the other end of the line, confirming that I must have made some sort of sound.  
She didn't have to tell me since I had already seen what had happened but due to the fact she didn't know that, she did anyway.  
"Jeff Hanson has been killed."  
"I'll be right over," I said weakly, then hung up. I opened the car door just quickly enough to not throw up in my own car. When I was finished, I fumbled the glove compartment with some difficulty and popped some chewing gum into my mouth with shaking hands.  
I got back in the car and drove it to another location in our driveway, disgusted at my own weakness. I had seen far worse face to face actually, when I had still been the head of security at the Centre. When had I turned into a crazed-out mother hen whose first urge was to storm back into the house to check on her daughter?  
She would be okay, I decided. Her father was with her. I got out of the car and looked down at myself. Wearing a white long-sleeve along with black sweat pants and ballerinas, I was not exactly a stunning sight.  
I decided to head over immediately anyway, for fear of having to face Jarod again if I went back into the house and rubbed my upper arms against the sudden chill. The night was cold for mid-September and there was a bit of fog lingering between houses and obscuring the lake from view. It was a quiet night with no sounds and I suddenly felt as if I was being watched. As if something evil was lurking around, waiting to make its move on me. I paused, then quickened my steps towards the Hanson's house. Despite all the horrors that awaited me there, it suddenly seemed like a safe harbor. There was a rustling in the bushes near me and I felt like breaking into a run when suddenly something brushed my ankle. I winced in terror and struggled to break free from some invisible restraint, lurched forward and landed on all fours, feeling the pain spread from my wrists to my elbows. The damp earth under my hands was cold and its smell, though usually comforting, hitting my nostrils suddenly reminded me of shallow graves. My breath was going raggedly and my lower arms were hurting too much to support me enough to get up right away.  
I could hear the sound of breathing, but maybe it was just the rustling of trees and something brushed my back. Suddenly a sound broke through the silent night and Val's car turned up to come to a screeching halt in front of me.  
"Jesus! Are you trying to get yourself killed!"  
She jumped out of her car, leaving the door open as she approached me. Was I hearing the distant rustling of leaves again? She gently pulled me to my knees and took a quick survey of me that faintly reminded me of long-forgotten days on a playground with my mother.  
"You okay?" she asked, allowing herself only a faint hint of worry in her voice. This was official business which kept her from fussing over me. Actually, Val wouldn't fuss over anyone in any situation, but this time it was especially clear that she needed to treat me like a colleague.  
"I guess I'm fine." I rubbed my hands together to get rid of the pieces of my lawn sticking to it.  
"What was the matter?" she asked, but I suddenly felt foolish about my being scared.  
"Nothing. I was just clumsy," I said evasively. She was so focused on the task ahead, that she let my little lie slip without properly noticing it.  
"Come on. Let's go in then," she touched my shoulder in a quick but reassuring gesture and led me towards the house while I looked down myself again and was relieved not to find my white shirt stained.  
"You sure little one is fine?" Val asked, a note of clumsiness in her voice, that I found adorable. She seemed to believe that she couldn't keep up our usual rough banter now that I was pregnant- I probably should set her straight about that soon.  
"Don't worry, Val. It's just my arms."  
"Ask Jarod to check you out later," Val ordered and I shuddered involuntarily. Jarod- not the best of topics right now.  
I murmured something that I hoped sounded like approval to her and followed her inside. The house looked just as I remembered it from my last visit with colorful paintings and very modern furniture that had recently acquired an air of negligence with dust covering surfaces and minor objects scattered around as if they'd been dropped carelessly by their owner. The Medical Examiner, a tall bald man with kind brown eyes and a lanky body handed us gloves and shoe covers and pointed towards the bedroom.  
"It's not a pretty sight." He eyed me with some interest as I looked nothing like I usually did and I suddenly felt awkward.  
"Miss Parker came right over. I didn't really leave her much time to change," Val explained curtly. "Where's Will?"  
"At the scene. Please follow me."  
He stepped aside to allow us access first and I braced myself for what I had already glimpsed earlier. The bedroom was alight with every available lamp switched on. Like the rest of the house, it looked stylish and modern, but clothes covered the floor and an assortment of dirty cups sat on one of the bedside tables. Jeff lay sprawled across the bed, blood having soaked into the covers, his left arm at an odd angle. His eyes were half closed and I could see that the whites had turned red with blood. I had seen my share of murders and recognized instantly, that he had not only been stabbed, but strangled, too. What a brutal way to die. I resisted the urge to cling to the door frame and took my position next to Val. She and Will had been arguing in the past that she was allowed at crime scenes, but he wouldn't have her interfere with police work since - truth be told - we weren't qualified.  
I was glad that I did not have to go about some gruesome task right now and folded my arms in front of my chest.  
"I think we can rule out suicide," Will said with a hint of that dark sarcasm that seemed to come with the job.  
"Where's Linda?"  
"She's in the kid's room- We practically had to drag her out of here."  
"Did she call you?"  
"No. It seems that he tried to call 911 but didn't get the chance to say anything. A cruiser came by for a routine check and discovered them in here."  
"Did she do this?" Val asked, her gaze fastened at her brother.  
"We don't know. We haven't found any signs of forced entry, yet so it might as well have been her."  
"What did she say?"  
"She's in shock. Not talking coherently. It will be a while until the psychologist gets here. I was hoping you could talk to her," Will said, gesturing at me. I liked him so I had always been gentle towards him. Still, it had never crossed my mind that he might think I was a people person.  
"Me?"  
"She knows you. Maybe she'll open up to you."  
I nodded quickly, actually relieved to get away from the stench of blood and walked down the hall towards Donald's room.

**Jarod  
**

I was woken from a light sleep by the sound of the key in the lock and gazed at the alarm clock on the bedside table which told me that it was a few minutes past one. I swung my legs over the side of the bed and sleepily stumbled towards the door where Miss Parker appeared a moment later. I couldn't prevent a shocked gasp from leaving my lips when I laid eyes on my wife. She was still wearing her white long-sleeved pullover with sweat-pants but she was holding her arms in a protective way now, trying to cover the stain on the front of her top. Snapping into doctor mode immediately, I approached her and pulled her arms away from her stomach to discover a blood-red hand print there. It was slightly smudged but still not quite dry and the smell of the blood hit my nostrils. Only when Parker groaned slightly, I realized that I was still holding her arms away from her body.  
"What happened to you?" I asked, worried, our fight temporarily forgotten.  
"Can I please change first?" she asked, her voice uncharacteristically subdued. Although I rather wanted her to explain her state to me right away, I stepped aside and allowed her access to her wardrobe. She quickly pulled the dirty garment over her head and grabbed her pyjama top from the shelves. I watched her naked body and stared at the slight swell of her stomach, realizing for the first time, that the bloody hand print was located exactly where the small bulge was. My protective instincts, though usually more of a nuisance around my independent and strong wife, kicked in right away and I approached her, pulling her into my arms.  
"Are you okay?" I whispered into her fragrant hair. "Is our baby okay?"  
She had stiffened at first but now relaxed in my arms, leaning into me. When I let go of her, I could see tears glistening in her eyes. I led her towards our bed that she hadn't slept in since our last fight and pulled the covers over us, though I was still fully dressed. She still didn't say anything but simply looked exhausted. She was trembling slightly, I realized.  
When I tried to cover her stomach with my hand, she winced terribly and sat up again.  
"I'm sorry," she said, running her hands through her hair and staring at a point at the opposite wall. "This is not about you. It's just..." She closed her eyes briefly. "It's about Linda."  
"Linda?" I asked, completely at a loss. What did our neighbor have to do with it?  
She started out shakily, then her voice grew stronger while she told me about how Val had called her over to the Hanson's house, where Jeff had been killed brutally. She swallowed, before she told me exactly what had happened with Linda.

**Miss Parker  
**

"Linda?" I asked carefully, putting a lot of effort into trying to make my voice sound soft and calm although I was feeling neither. I could see Linda sitting on her son's bed in the half-darkness. Someone had turned on the dolphin-shaped lamp on the bedside table that cast a pale glow over her face. Hadn't I known it was her, I wouldn't have recognized her. Her features looked distorted with grief and pain and something that should have initially warned me to go near her. Her eyes darted from me to the door and back when I slowly approached her.  
"May I sit with you?" I asked, trying to make her look into my eyes but she simply shrugged in a very ragged, eery way. Not sure how to proceed, I tried to pull up a chair, but failed due to the pain in my arms. So I decided to sit on the edge of the bed instead.  
It was then that Linda looked me in the eye for the first time and I was startled. Suddenly her clouded gaze had become clearer and I was able to recognize my neighbor in the mess of puffy skin, clinging strands of hair and smeared tears.  
"You," she said, and her voice sounded cold.  
"Yes," I replied, hoping for her weird behavior to simply be down to shock and not to something more sinister.  
"You are coming to my house?" she growled in a voice that didn't sound completely human anymore.  
"Linda, I...." I tried, but she cut me off.  
"How dare you when this is all your fault!" she hissed like an angry cat, then grabbed my wrist painfully, her split fingernails digging into my flesh.  
"Linda, please! I don't know what you're..."  
"You know damn well, Miss Parker. You killed my husband and you killed my son. It is all your fault."  
Looking down, I noticed that her hands were full of blood and I gasped in shock as she reached out and pressed her hand to my stomach. Panic began to kindle inside me like a fire that threatened to burn me. I felt the wetness of the blood on her hands through the thin fabric of my pullover and struggled to get away from her, but she was strong and I couldn't use my arms without a sharp pain shooting through them.  
"You could have found, Donald!" she accused me. "You could have found my son if you hadn't been so focused on your damn self."  
Her hand remained in place and my struggling didn't seem to help the fact that the pressure was increasing.  
"Linda, you're hurting me!" I told her, but at the same time was pretty sure that it was exactly what she was intending.  
"You are a selfish bitch who needs to show anyone just how perfect her life is!" She hissed, then added in an eerily calm voice: "You don't deserve to give birth to this little boy. You know it as well as I do, don't you?" A mad smile had formed on her lips. "If I can help it, you will never hold him in your arms."  
"Leave me alone!" I increased my struggle, but she lurched at me, rising from her sitting position so quickly that I didn't have time to react before I painfully came into contact with the carpet. All my training at the Centre didn't help me now, as I was trying to get a madwoman off me with two useless arms and a mind that was clouded over with worry. So I screamed.  
It took both Val and Will to pull Linda off me and I remained on the floor, trying to hide my face from their view since tears were threatening to spill.  
"Skinny, get up." Val helped me up and steadied me with an arm around my waist. "Did she hurt you?"  
"I hope not." She had meant to hurt my child but she hadn't succeeded. Thank god.  
"I'll go over and get you home, Skinny."  
"No. Please let me work," I pleaded with her.  
"I don't want you in the same house with Linda. She's dangerous and you are hurt already."

**Jarod  
**

"She assaulted you?" I gasped in disbelief. Linda and my wife had never been best friends, but that was the last thing I would have expected our neighbor to do to someone who had come to be by her side during a difficult time. Parker nodded and rested one hand on her forehead.  
"Are you sure you are okay? You're not in any pain right now?"  
"No, no I'm not. My arms are a bit sore but as long as I don't try to lift heavy objects or fight off attackers I will be fine."  
"I could drive you to hospital so they can check you out, have an ultrasound done..."  
She looked quizzical for a moment, then settled back into the pillows.  
"It's okay. The baby is fine."  
"You sure?"  
"Jarod!" She silenced me with a glare. "I told you it was fine. I would much rather like to sleep now."  
"Okay." I sat on the edge of the bed for another moment before I went into the bathroom to change into my nightclothes. When I returned, she had curled up into a ball, the covers almost touching her nose. I slid into bed beside her and finally acknowledged how much I had missed her presence here. Sleep would come a lot easier now that I knew she was beside me, I thought. But not before I had gotten something off my chest.  
"Parker?" I rested my hand on her side and she blinked, shaking her head slightly. I hated to wake her up, but I needed to get this done.  
"I'm so sorry about what I said earlier," I finally managed to choke out and instantly felt better although I was still afraid of her reaction. "I should be more patient. I know you are doing what you can and I will always love you. I even loved you when you were chasing me at the Centre. I know you hated me, but..."  
"I didn't hate you," she said softly, but didn't elaborate further. She opened her arms for me and I pulled her into me, trying to make her as comfortable as possible. Buried in her familiar scent, I fell asleep.

**Miss Parker  
**

As I watched my husband sleep, I remembered the one occasion that I had been forced to admit to myself, if only for a moment, that I loved him. Even when I had never gotten tired of telling anyone who would listen just how much I despised him, I had known that I didn't.  
Truth was, one night Jarod had been careless. He had stayed in a hotel room near Blue Cove and I had incidentally been still at the office when the call had come in.  
Holstering my gun, I had sped off to the destination immediately and after pausing briefly in front of the motel room door to listen to the sound of cartoons playing inside, I had crept in, intent on having the moment of surprise on my side.  
Once inside, I had found myself faced with Jarod's sleeping form on the bed next to the playing TV. He had been curled on his side, much as I was right now, and his eyes had been closed. It had been obvious that he wasn't merely dozing but fast asleep, snoring very slightly.  
I had been frozen at the door, gun in hand, my eyes on him. He had looked peaceful, wearing only a t-shirt and boxers, a sock still on the one foot that peeked out from under the covers. The remote control had slipped from his hand and lay on the bed next to him, accompanied by the obligatory PEZ- dispenser.  
I had stared at him then, the ruffled hair, the innocent look of sleep on his face and had slowly lowered the gun, then secured it and put it back into the waistband of my skirt. I had approached him without making a single sound - an ability that every predator should possess, and leaned over him, inhaling his scent.  
He had smelt fresh, a bit like washing powder but with a sweeter note. I had found that strange at the time since I would have appointed a much more masculine scent to him. Still, it was oddly fitting with his youthful innocence that his imprisonment at the Centre had caused. I had had handcuffs in my pocket. All it had taken for me was to tackle him, cuff him and draw my gun again. Overpowering him in his sleep would have bought me the freedom I was aching for. But it would have also meant that I would have to sacrifice his in a more than unfair battle.  
Instead of cuffing him, I had very faintly pressed my lips to his warm temple and enjoyed the sensation of his skin, then tiptoed back out.  
"I'll get you next time." I had told him in a whisper, but I had known even then that I wouldn't. Even then I had loved him so deeply that it hurt. I had just never told anyone. Him telling me how cruel I had been and how impossible I still was, hurt me more than I would have ever been able to admit, but being here in his arms made it all up.  
I turned away from him and adjusted his arms around my middle so they were resting over our child. Linda had scared the hell out of me. She knew something, seemed to be aware of my innermost fears and I could not tell why. Who would have told her? Who could know me that well?  
But she didn't know that her son visited me every night in my sleep and I knew that from the moment I'd close my eyes, I would feel his presence staring down at me from the side of the bed, silently beckoning me to come and find him, but not telling me how in the world I was supposed to do that.

**  
TBC**


	11. Part Eleven

**Part Eleven**

**Authors Note:** This is a short one, but I just wanted to make sure you know I am still alive. Barely, though, since I am in the middle of exams. ;-)

**Val**

One look at Skinny confirmed what I had already expected. Her attitude was back in place right along with her suit and make-up as she walked into my office and stood in front of my desk, her arms folded in front of her chest.

"Well, well. What a statuary example of a good way of dealing with attacks from madwomen", I greeted her, twirling my pencil between my fingers.

She gave a curt little smile and only reluctantly sat down when I offered her the chair in front of my desk.

"You know, you don't have to treat me like a delicate flower, Val. Actually, I hate it when you do", she dived headfirst into what she had obviously come here for. I felt a bit embarrassed since I had noticed that in myself, but I played dumb anyway. No need to admit weaknesses when she was in a mood like that.

"No idea what you're talking about. But I can make you lift boxes with files from the Addison trial if that makes you feel better." Addison was a little fat bespectacled accountant who had forged ten years worth of tax reports for a major corporation. "Anyway..." I shuffled through the mass of papers on my desk and grabbed the MEs report, then handed it to her.

"I guess you can stomach a few gruesome pictures?" I gave her a fake-smile.

"Very funny." She accepted the report, obviously still a bit taken aback by how little thought I had given to her statement and skimmed through the papers.

"Cause of death was the stabbing although he must have been immobilized with a rope round his neck", she read, then looked up at me again. "Would Linda be strong enough to do that?"

"She pinned you to the floor, my little kickass-friend. I guess she could do it. She's been doing kick-boxing for a pastime so I guess she would have known how to use her arms."

"Has she given any kind of statement?"

"Only the index finger kind. She refuses even to talk to her lawyer and calls Will and his folks incompetent to the point of stupidity because they haven't found her son alive." I paused for a moment to imagine what hell Miss Parker would have given anyone who had failed to find her little girl, but then decided that I didn't actually want to picture it. Too gory.

"I'm going to talk to her", Skinny announced and all I could do was not roll my eyes.

"If you're suicidal, I will tie you to a post, lassy. I will not have you around someone who would take great pleasure in killing you. Except myself, that is."

She sighed and gave an impatient little twitch of her eyebrow as if she had expected my refusal and had prepared herself well. "There will be bullet-proof glass between us and I will be talking to her on a telephone, Val. She would have to be in possession of superhuman strength to even tickle me."

I sighed in exasperation. "Do you want to put yourself under even more stress? You should really not..." I realized too late that I had made a mistake. A grin that would have made any canary-eating cat proud spread over her face.

"Delicate flower", she said and shook her head slightly. "You're doing it. You owe me. Talk to Will now, or I swear to god I will act exactly like the person you're treating me like."

"Meaning?" I asked, stalling and still weighing my options.

"I will be around nagging you about the fact that my window doesn't open so I cannot get fresh air to cure that morning sickness, I will complain about the air-conditioning because I'm pregnant and I don't want to catch a cold, I will put my hand in my back every time I walk past you and insult you because my chair isn't comfortable enough, I will complain about my workload because I rather you help me pick out baby clothes because they are so cute..."

I cut her off before she got a chance to dive deeper into what I knew was her worst nightmare along with mine. She was literally allergic to that kind of person, but she would happily act like one to spite me.

"Please spare me, Skinny. I will do as you please," I growled and picked up the receiver.

**Jarod**

Miss Parker had returned home from work in full prosecutor-mode and hadn't yet switched out of it, so all I could do was sit on the couch and watch her pace, blackberry pressed to her ear. Her thumb and index finger kept rubbing against each other as if she was aching to employ her old technique of snapping her fingers that she had often used on Broots to get him to stop stalling and finally deliver the desired results. She probably didn't even notice.

"I wasn't talking about tomorrow, I was talking about yesterday," she snapped at the person on the other end of the phone and did a perfect little turn on her heel. She often kicked her shoes off right after she had crossed the doorstep, but today had been different. A quick wave had been all she had given me before resuming the conversation she must have started while still driving. I kept telling her that it was dangerous, but would she ever listen?

Parker marched back towards the kitchen, executing the same turn there, then paused and ran her free hand through her hair.

"I don't care about protocol. I am a goddamn prosecutor!" She was silent for a moment in order to listen to the voice on the other end, then rolled her eyes.

"So tomorrow afternoon it is. Why that late? Do your inmates usually sleep in?" she said nastily. "A meeting with her lawyer, sure. Whatever. Please spare me the same kind of fuss tomorrow and write my appointment down, will you?"

Another pause. "Rude? Me? I have every right to be, when faced with such lack of competence. Goodbye to you."

She hung up and threw her phone down at the couch with flourish.

"Psychiatric hospital my ass," she announced. "Couldn't they have just thrown her in jail where she belongs? They are not half as fussy when it comes to visitors."

I gave her a look that was supposed to convey my disbelief at how she had just treated an innocent employee who had just been trying to enforce protocol. She showed no signs of recognition, but simply brushed me aside and went towards the kitchen to pour a glass of water.

She had already been up and in the bathroom when I had woken this morning and then had just kissed me goodbye quickly. Now I was faced with her again for the first time since she had returned from the crime scene next door and felt as if I was dealing with an entirely different person. I stepped beside her and placed my hand on top of hers. Instead of pulling away, she set the glass down upon the counter and looked up into my eyes with a defiant stare.

"What is it, Jarod?" she asked, no particular emotion audible in her words. She sounded reasonable though, and open towards anything which was rare with her as it was.

"About yesterday..."

Her eyebrow twitched and I knew I had reminded her of a memory she had tried to repress.

"About?"

"We didnt really get a chance to talk."

She stiffened. "About what?"

I shook my head slightly. "About what happened."

"Are you going to draw any consequences from it?" she asked, forced bravado in her voice.

"What Consequences?"

"Are you going to divorce me?"

I stared at her, dumbfounded. Was that what she thought?

"What? Of course not!" I exclaimed, feeling like a drowning man, clinging to a lifeline. "Why on earth would I want to do that?"

She smiled humorlessly and took a sip of her water.

"I can't believe you're asking me that. Isn't it obvious? Yesterday night you questioned my very personality. Hating the person your wife is and realizing that she will not change fast enough to make you happy sounds like a very good reason for divorce to me."

For a brief moment I didn't know what to say.

"That wasn't what I meant."

"Well, Jarod. Then what did you mean?" she asked sarcastically, her whole armor back in place.

"I criticized a few things you do, but I love you." I paused, searching for words. "You could be a serial killer and I'd still love you!"

"I'm flattered," she replied. "You're comparing me to a criminal now that I am finally working for the good guys."

This was getting difficult.

"No. What I'm trying to say is that I would never want to divorce you because of who you are, because I love who you are."

"Are you sure?" her voice softened just a little bit and someone other than me would probably not have noticed it.

"Perfectly." I stepped towards her and gently took the glass from her hand. "I really do love you."

She gave a low snort and withdrew her hand from where I had gently wrapped my fingers around it. She pressed her lips together for a moment, then closed her eyes and opened them again: "I am afraid even after five years that seems a little too good to be true."

And then she walked out on me again. Who could blame her?

**Miss Parker**

I walked straight into Sammy's room and sat at her bedside. My arm protested when I put my weight on it to lean over and kiss her on the cheek. She was already in her pajamas but far from asleep as she was playing with some of her teddy bears.

"Hello, my sweet", I said and inhaled her scent like a suffocating person craving oxygen. She gave me a concerned look and reached up to gently stroke a stray strand of hair from my forehead. A gesture so loving had tears spring to my eyes and I turned away, embarrassed. Jarod just didn't understand that loving someone and being loved back was a very abstract concept to me. I hadn't really been able to believe that he loved me, not because of anything he'd done, but because I had simply grown up that way. As far as I was concerned, love came with a prize. Always. My fathers love surely had. Many mens' love had, too, or at least what had passed for it. The only kind of love that I understood as genuine was that between a mother and a daughter.

What was written on the tag on Jarod's love seemed to be change. I had to change. I had to become someone else whom he could love more than the actual me.

I had grown tired of it. I was who I was and would not back down and start baking cookies and run barefoot through the valleys.

"What's wrong, Mommy? You're sad."

She was as good as goddamn Angelo who lived with Sydney and thus had lost most of his initial creepiness.

"I'm okay, baby," I assured her and she rested her head on my shoulder, confident as only little children can be, that their parents always tell the truth and can always make everything right again.

I kissed her forehead and held her for a moment before I switched the lights off.

Out in the hallway again, I took a deep breath and leaned against the wall for support. Being bitchy to the woman on the phone earlier had made me feel something resembling powerful again. Val could not stop treating me like a fine china cup (which was actually a bad example because she would have surely shattered it if anyone had been stupid enough to give it to her) and Jarod had always made me feel powerless.

I moved my hand over my stomach and followed its gentle roundness with my palm. If he'd known, my son would have been one to count on me making things right again so he would be born into a happy family. Unfortunately I had no idea just how to accomplish that. Happy families always seemed beyond me... but I was pretty good at dysfunctional...

"Miss Parker."

The well-known sound of that whisper sent shivers down my spine.

I turned to the side and found myself faced with Donald, his eyes large and dark and unforgiving.

I was so startled that I stumbled backwards and grabbed the doorknob to Sammys room. Glad that the door was closed, I pressed my hand over my mouth to stifle the scream that was threatening to come out. I closed my eyes, hoping dearly that as soon as I would reopen them, he would have vanished. Even the dreams frightened me, but being faced with him while awake made my hands tremble. Maybe I _was_ losing my mind.

I slowly opened my eyes and focused on the landing. Nothing was out of place, not even a light was flickering and there was silence except for the muffled sound of the TV downstairs.

I took a deep breath and reached out to stroke my stomach again. When I looked down consequently, Donald's eyes were looking up at me from where he stood suffocatingly close to me. His cheek almost touching me. If that was possible. As I was already leaning against a door, I could not back away. My throat was so dry that I couldn't even scream. It was a low moan that eventually escaped my lips.

"Miss Parker," he said again.

"What do you want?" I managed to whisper.

He looked up at me for a moment and I wished I could move so I could check whether I could touch him. Would my hands just go through him like a ghost through a wall?

"He is the answer," Donald said with a sad tone in his voice. "It's not me, it's him."

"Who's he?" I breathed, overwhelmed and frightened by the experience.

"Can't you tell?" Donald finally disengaged his gaze from mine and his eyes traveled down, settling on the hand that covered my stomach. He reached out, touching the fabric of my blouse just beneath the point where my hand lay.

At first I felt numb and cold, but then an excruciating pain followed.

**Jarod**

A low thump coming from upstairs startled me and finally made me avert my eyes from the dull show that had been playing on TV. Although the sound was turned up, I hadn't heard a single word that had been spoken since the audio had been replaced by Parker's words inside my head. There was the sound of a door that was being opened and then my daughter was screaming in panic.

"Daddy! Daddy!"

I jumped to my feet and ran into the hallway and up the stairs to find Parker on the floor, white as a sheet and covering her stomach with both hands. She was panting and her features were distorted in pain as she was trying to say something to Sammy.

"It's okay, sweetie, Daddy's here." I told Sammy and grabbed Parker by the shoulders.

"Parker. Look at me. Try to stay calm. I'm calling an ambulance."

I hated to leave her but hurried to the study to make the call, then returned and sat down next to her. Sammy was now also sitting on the floor, her arms around her knees, her face hidden in the fabric of her nightgown. Parker was still on her knees, sitting back on her heels, not as close to hyperventilating as she had been mere seconds ago.

"It's okay. I'm here."

I gently lifted her from her position and picked her up to carry her to our bedroom where I gently sat her down on the bed. She moaned and rolled onto her side, her face hidden in the pillow, her hand still on her stomach.

"Sammy," she groaned and made a gesture into the general direction of the hall, so I hurried up to pick my crying daughter up, too.

"Is Mommy going to die?" she asked between sobs.

"No," I assured her. "No, she is not going to die." But maybe your little brother is.

Sammy lifted her head from my shoulder where my shirt was already soaked and looked over at her mother whose hand was grabbing the sheets and lips were pressed tightly together, anxious not to make a sound.

**Miss Parker**

"Can you sit up, Miss Parker?" The doctor put his hand in the small of my back so I could rise from the examination table in the emergency room. I slowly sat up and the room began to spin around me again.

"When have you last experienced symptoms related to your ulcer?" he asked, pen poised, peeking at me from over large unfashionable glasses that sat on a perched nose in a wrinkly old face whose forehead was overgrown with strands of silver hair.

"That's been years ago. Yes. about five and a half years."

He nodded. "So you have not been treated lately?"

"No. Not for some years. I sort of turned my life around. No more smoking, less alcohol and a healthier social life," I admitted.

"And that has changed in recent times?" he asked, a kind smile on his lips. I didn't take to it.

"What? Are you a goddamn shrink now?" I snapped instead.

He grinned, somewhat amused by my outburst. "Of course not, Miss Parker."

He scribbled something down. "This is a prescription. The injection I gave you upon your arrival consisted of something to calm the ulcer and pain medication. I take it you are already feeling better?"

I nodded numbly. "I'm just glad it wasn't the baby."

"That's right. Don't worry. The little guy is just fine. We did an ultrasound earlier when you were somewhat out of it."

He probably found himself funny while he was making light of my predicament but I let it slip, since I was too tired to react properly. Also I knew emergency ulcer medication to be relaxing, too, which made my arms and legs feel heavy along with my eyelids.

"Still, I'm afraid we will actually have to call your pregnancy high risk officially from now on. As long as you stay on your medication you will be fine, though. But we don't want your body to get too stressed so you might go into premature labor a few months from now. So make sure you don't even miss one, okay?"

He playfully waved a finger at me and I rolled my eyes. At least I was hoping that the ulcer problem had been the cause for all my throwing up lately so I might possibly be over what I had initially believed to be morning sickness. No aroma therapy necessary. Ha!

"Now, I'll go get your husband for you."

While he shuffled out, I did my best to focus my gaze on the other wall and clear my vision. Had Donald really tried to tell me something? Or had I just been hallucinating because I had been working up a fever caused by my ulcer? I was truly hoping for the latter.

The door opened a worried-looking Jarod rushed in and approached me fast, his arms almost instantly around me.

"Thank god you're okay! I was so worried when you passed out in the ambulance."

I inhaled his scent and rested my tired head against his shoulder. His rambling was so unlike him, that I was touched beside myself.

"Where's Sammy?" I asked, guiding his warm hand downwards where he rubbed my stomach gently.

"She's with Sydney and Angelo. They're waiting outside. The doctor allowed me to take you home."

**Jarod**

I had been so busy cursing myself and my stupidity that I had not noticed that I had arrived at our bedroom-door. With Parker tucked away in bed, I had opened a bottle of red for myself and Sydney and a box of cracker-jacks for Angelo and had sat down with them, ready to discuss the recent problems between me and my wife that I blamed her health- problems on. When I had told them about her irrational ideas concerning a certain sense she claimed she and Sammy shared and had expressed my worries for her mental health, Sydney had taken a stance that I knew very well. He had been preparing himself to deliver an ugly truth. Not the one I had been expecting, though.

I gently opened the door and peeked around it. Parker was on her side like she had been hours before, but her frame looked more relaxed now, her eyes closed and her face peaceful in the warm glow of the lamp on the bedside table.

I approached the bed and her eyelids fluttered open as the bedding shifted with my weight.

"Jarod."

I reached out to stroke her forehead and hesitated, unsure how to begin.

"Sydney told me what happened back at the Centre. He told me about the visions your mother had and the fact that it somehow seems to be hereditary."

Parker visibly snapped into full wakefulness and sat up quickly, the blanket falling from her shoulders.

"So you're saying that he has finally put some sense into you?" she asked, only half-joking.

"I guess that's what I am saying," I admitted. "I am sorry for questioning..."

"... my sanity?" she snapped, then looked sorry for her outburst.

"I am so sorry, Parker. I don't want this to be between us... I should have trusted you."

She made an attempt to sit up fully, but I held her back.

"Please..." But she cut me off with an impatient hiss, then sat up fully and shook her head.

"Isn't that just our problem, Jarod? Trust? Hasn't it always been?"

I looked at her for a long moment, then decided that there was no way around it this time. She was right.

"I don't know what to do. I don't know whether we can make this work, Jarod."

"It has worked for the past five years," I said.

"Yeah...." she trailed off, looking as if she was aching to just let it go and pretend that she did not have doubts. But of course she was unable not to be honest with me. It was probably something that her family life full of secrets and lies had told her, that honesty was the only key to happiness in a relationship.

"Things have changed now, Jarod. And in other ways they have not. I have always been who I am, but I am no longer all you have." She bit her lips and it looked painful, but I allowed her to finish what she was saying, my mind already swirling while I was trying to come up with something to say that would convince her otherwise.

"You have your family now and I guess they are just not so full of the goddamn darkness that I seem not to be able to shake off."

"You make it sound as if you were a nuisance, Parker," I told her, grabbing her hand as if not to let her slip away. Unfortunately, it wasn't something that I could prevent physically.

"I am not a nuisance, Jarod. There are more than enough men that would kill for a trophy wife like me." She smiled sadly. "I just don't want to have to try to live up to what you want your wife to be all the time."

It hurt although her tone of voice was not accusing but merely tired.

"Am I really that bad?" I suddenly felt helpless, my words blurted out and pitifully lacking the careful phrasing that had given her words such an impact.

"I am not accusing you of doing something wrong. I'm just telling you how I feel."

There was a sudden silence for I didn't know what else to say to her. I had never denied being self-righteous to some extent, but now I only realized how much I had enforced my view of a perfect life on Parker. It was astounding how I, who I should have known best what it felt like to have decisions taken away from you, had fallen for it. How I had simply assumed that everybody shared my ideals.

What was even more astounding was that Parker, of all women on this planet, had played along to make me happy. Of course, she was still moody often and kept snapping at me, but basically she had done everything to give me the perfect family I had envisioned.

And still I had kept on pushing her more. I had been criticizing her ways and her roughness without noticing that it was her way of staying Miss Parker besides the fact that she was trying so hard to be my wife.

I felt as if I was exploiting her need for a family that was just as strong as mine. Maybe that was what had kept us together and now that I had found my real family, that connection was gone. While I was suddenly not only a husband and father, but a brother and a son, she was still the lonely one.

How on earth could I put those thoughts into words and make her understand that she was not alone anymore?

"Listen Parker..." I trailed off, afraid that it was all too complex or that she would assume that I felt that she was weak and was pitying her. "It's not... I know I..." I sighed. "I understand what you mean. And I love you- I mean you- not someone you're trying to be. I love the one who is not trying to be anyone."

"As usual, you're not making any sense, rat boy," she snapped, but without the usual vigor. She hadn't called me that name in years and I was suddenly very glad to have the neurotic her back. Slowly I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her close to me. I did love her. Visions and all.

She pulled back after a moment and swallowed. "Before my breakdown, Jarod.... in the hallway. I saw Donald." She looked hesitant for a moment, but then continued in a somewhat shaky voice: "He said that it was not about him, but about our son. And... I think..." She didn't look me in the eye when she finally said it: "I think this whole situation has to do with someone from the Centre."

**TBC**


	12. Part Twelve

**Part Twelve**

_Sorry for the (incredible) delay, but real life was crazy once again. So here's an extra-long chapter. Can't wait to hear what you think!_

**Belinda Jackson**

I could tell by the way the tall woman walked towards me, that she must indeed be the dragon that had been yelling at Carla over the phone last night. Her impossibly high heels clicked on the concrete floor and her hair shone in the unflattering light of the same fluorescent lamps that gave her pale skin the look of marble. Her full red lips were set into a stubborn line and the dark suit she was wearing fit her like a glove.

When she approached my desk, she gave me the once-over and I knew instantly that she was not only taking in the view, but judging me in an instant. Like a predatory animal that tried to determine how much of a fight its prey would put up.

Her hands rested on the high reception desk, perfectly manicured fingers neatly lined up; she was wearing no rings except for a simple golden wedding band.

"My name's Parker from the DA's office. I am here to speak to Mrs Linda Hanson," she said in an even, somewhat throaty voice.

"You're early, Ma'am," I replied and her eyebrow twitched slightly.

"I don't have much time."

The sound of a newspaper being folded made us both turn our heads into its direction where we laid eyes on a tall handsome man with dark hair, kind eyes and a leather jacket. He gave a boyish grin that gave me a very unwelcome, yet familiar twitch in my stomach and approached us after rising casually from the seat he must have assumed quite a while ago.

Mrs Parker slid one hand off the desk and casually put it on her hip, looking him up and down as if she was pretending to see him for the first time.

"My, my. I should have known." Her voice had dropped and was a low yet only very mildly aggressive growl now.

He cocked his head and subtly lifted the right corner of his mouth.

"Well, you did suspect something or you would already be hurling objects at me right now."

The man seemed to know her well.

She snorted - which he ignored - and instead turned to me to give me a warm and kind smile that came so naturally to him that I was sure he was not faking it.

"I hope you don't mind my showing up unannounced to accompany my wife." He cast a sidewards glance at said wife whose eyebrow had wandered towards her hairline. Her hand was already extended towards his arm as if she wanted to stop him in his tracks.

"I worry a lot about her these days," he explained with a genuine smile. "She can't seem to take good enough care of herself and my little son she's carrying under her heart."

A low noise came from his wife that sounded as if she'd been shot, but his wide smile didn't waver.

"No. I understand, of course." I said.

Pregnant? Hopefully she wouldn't eat the baby after giving birth. From the looks of her, it didn't seem that far-fetched.

"Jarod..." her tone was warning and he straightened up again. I hadn't noticed that he had leaned in confidentially until he stood up straight again and placed his hand in the small of his wife's back.

I gestured towards the hallway.

"Please just follow the signs towards the visitor's room. Someone will be with you shortly."

"Thank you so very much," he said and with that they went off. Only when she started walking, she accidentally drove her stiletto heel into his foot and he paled, the expression of happy contentment wavering for a moment.

She looked sorry, her hands flying up to his shoulders. "Honey, I am so sorry!"

She then gave him a beaming smile and walked ahead of his limping form towards the visitor's room.

**Jarod**

We were alone in the waiting room except for an anxious looking elderly woman with graying curls who was tightly holding on to a worn leather briefcase.

"That was absolutely unnecessary and you know it," I said, painfully stretching my foot.

"Oh that," she replied nonchalantly. "You could have prevented that from happening to you by not making me look like a dependent little housewife."

"I wouldn't be able to make you look like one if I wanted to!" I protested, already enjoying the game. She leaned over the armrest of her chair towards me and brought her nose very close to mine.

"Still."

I decided it was safe to steal a kiss and she responded with some ferocity, making me temporarily forget our surroundings, the reason for our being here and the fact that her still somewhat delicate ulcer condition wouldn't allow for rough sex in a supply closet.

When we broke apart, the woman in the corner had buried her nose in a magazine with some embarrassment.

"I am sorry. You know how much I love teasing you."

"Yeah. You have demonstrated it quite inflationary over the past ten years," she replied evenly, then brushed her lips against mine again, giving me a deep look at the same time.

Damn that ulcer, just laying next to her tonight wouldn't be easy. And judging from her evil grin, she wouldn't make it any easier on me.

"Are you still in pain?" I asked her, but she shook her head. "For obvious reasons I could not resort to my former favorite remedy, but I'm fine."

"What's that remedy?" I asked, confused.

"Warm milk with a shot of bourbon. Sadly warm milk with honey might benefit the baby, but surely does not benefit me."

"When he's born you can blame him for that until his college graduation."

"And beyond," she insisted.

"If you like."

I could see her expression change with the mentioning of our little boy's birth and I could tell that it was for a multitude of reasons. What Donald had told her about our son being the reason for the murders, Linda's threatening her that she would do her best for him not to be born and the traumatizing events surrounding Sammy's birth probably spun in her head.

She quickly recovered, though and leaned in to squeeze my hand quickly. Maybe she wasn't too mad at me accompanying her to see Linda after all. Still, she would have never asked me to.

I gently placed my hand on her lower belly and felt the warmth that was radiating from her skin.

"Can you feel him already?" I asked, curiously as always.

"Not yet. I'm not that far along. You should know that, Dr Jarod."

Before I could tell her off, a worn-looking young man in white scrubs walked in and gestured towards the hallway. "Miss Parker?"

We followed him towards a visitor's room through whose double doors we could see Linda sitting at a table, her arms folded. Parker's hand slipped unconsciously towards her middle when she laid eyes on the woman who had attacked her such a short while ago.

"I'm here," I whispered into her ear and brushed her hand with my fingers to encourage her. She didn't appear to notice, just straightened up and pushed the doors apart with some force. The loud noise of her stilettos apparently startled Linda because she quickly looked up when we walked in. There was only one chair so I decided to simply stand close to my wife while she sat, but she opted for towering over Linda instead.

"What do you know, Linda?" she said in a snide tone, without preamble.

Linda's face looked gaunt, her cheeks hollow, but her eyes were alight with something that I could tell was not madness. Her tight lips stretched into a smile that was nothing short of mocking.

"Now, wouldn't you like to know what's coming for you!"

"What do you mean?" Parker growled like an animal, but Linda seemed unfazed by it.

"They thought you'd come for my baby, but you didn't. And now they're after yours. I wish I could show you just how much it hurts to lose your son."

"So Donald's abduction was a trap?" Parker asked, matter-of-factly.  
Linda's face darkened, the smile vanished as if a switch had been flipped.

"Don't dare to trivialize it."

"I don't," Parker replied evenly, which only fueled Linda's rage. She didn't know her well enough, but I could see that Parker was seized by an inner tremble. I felt my muscles tighten, ready to interject if Linda dared to round the table and attack Parker again.

"You don't know anything, Miss Parker. You have no idea how much you will grieve and how they will take him away from you. And you don't deserve any better." She turned to me now. "I actually feel sorry for you, but bad enough that you had to marry such an impossible wife. The whole town is saying that you'd better divorce her and find someone suitable."

"I won't let anything happen to her or the baby," I told her, feeling stupid even before she bore her teeth and laughed at me.

"You are just as full of yourself as she is. People like you disgust me! As long as you can live your own dream, you don't care about anybody else's."

"Who is they? Who would be so evil?" Parker asked, no emotion audible in her voice. Her prosecutor voice. Which sounded just like her Centre voice, I realized for the very first time.

"Evil? You don't know what evil is, yet. But you will, as soon as you find your baby shattered at your feet."

**Miss Parker**

"Honey, are you okay?" I heard Jarod's concerned voice from outside the lady's room.

"Don't call me that!" I managed weakly, but doubted that he could hear my whisper through the door. I flushed the toilet and fought off nausea again as I straightened up and stumbled towards the sink. I felt like splashing water into my face but only drank a handful and washed my hands not to smudge my make-up and destroy the illusion of invincibility that today's attire had been all about. I had hauled some sort of insult at Linda and then exited the room with dignified slow strides. As soon as the doors had closed behind me, though, I had made a dash for the bathroom.

"You scared me." Jarod grabbed my arm as I came back to the hallway.

"Well, you should have pretended to be a woman then, and walked in to check on me," I tried a joke, but felt just as hollow as before.

"Do you think Linda just snapped or would you say that there's some truth to her allegations?" As usual, Jarod cut right to the chase and didn't give me time to craft an appropriate response. So I blurted out the truth.

"I don't think she was lying. It felt as if she was telling the truth. Gleefully, yes. Because she knew it would hurt and upset me. But she told the truth."

There was a short moment of silence in which I already knew what to expect.

"Well, is that your intuition or that… sense that's telling you that?"

I straightened my shoulders, ready to stand up for it. "Both, actually."

**Jarod**

Unaware of where we had just come from, Sammy was her usually cheerful and talkative little self and delivered countless anecdotes of her day at school while I made dinner and Parker sat on the sofa, watching her with a sad smile on her face.

The moment we'd come through the door, the armor of make-up and the suit had begun to melt off when she had cast the shoes aside, shrugged out of her jacket and pulled the blouse from the waistband of her skirt that was getting a little too tight. While the make-up was still in place, her steely facial expression vanished and she sat on the couch where she remained.

"Mommy, uncle Sydney says I can come fishing with him if I like. And Debbie sent me a postcard from her vacation in Spain! I read it all alone." Sammy told her and plopped down on the couch next to her. It hadn't been surprising that she had almost learned to read already, just from watching us read to her. She really was very bright. Growing up in a loving and wealthy family, my little daughter could one day become anything she liked to be. Like me. But maybe she'd stick to something in particular earlier, I thought with a smile.

I watched from the kitchen as Sammy rested her head on Parker's shoulder and slipped under the blanket that covered her mother's body, hugging her.

"Are you okay, Mommy?" She must be sensing her discomfort, but seemed mollified when Parker told her that everything was fine.

I wondered why Linda had been so intent on our unborn son being the target of the people or person she thought would come to hurt our family. If she wanted to hurt Parker, why didn't she just threaten Sammy, a little girl just as vulnerable as her son had been? A year younger even? Why did it have to be the little boy who was still safe in his mother's womb? Because it was a boy and Sammy was a girl? But did it make any difference?

I asked Parker the same question that night we lay in bed and I lay behind her, my face half buried in her neck.

"It's crystal clear, Jarod. I killed her son, now she wants mine dead."

"You didn't kill Donald. He was abducted and murdered."

"In a way I did. I could have looked for him, but I was too scared that something would go wrong with my pregnancy if I put myself in danger. And she knew that. She knew that I sacrificed her son for mine."

"That's not true!" I objected. "You were just being sensible. It was a trap! And you can't really control that sense, can you? And it puts a lot of stress on your mind and body that you have to avoid in your condition."

She turned around to me with a start. "Yes, but why do I have that gift if I can't use it to help? Why do I have to fight it in order to not endanger my child? There must be something to it, Jarod. Maybe I should have just taken you along and we could have found him…"

"But I didn't believe you."

Her shoulders sank and she buried her head back into the pillows.

"And still it's my fault. Linda has every right to hate me, Jarod. Every right. I don't know what I would do, if I were in her position."

The unspoken words hung between us like mist that soaks your clothes and skin.

_What if I will soon find myself in her position?_

**Val**

Parker looked skeptical as Christine held up a light blue set of baby-clothes and gave her a beaming smile. "How about this? Cute little ducks! The little guy will love it!"

"If he's anything like me, he'll prefer Darth Vader," Parker said through gritted teeth. I knew for a fact that she was happy to leave this kind of shopping to Jarod, and at the rare occasions when she wanted to shop for the baby herself, she hit the online stores to avoid other expectant mothers and people like Christine. I felt a little out of place myself in this wonderland of things in pastel colors and stuffed animals that were so cute that they made me feel sick. The fact that Christmas was looming didn't improve things.

Christine was a phenomenon. She was usually as sarcastic as we were, but when it came to shopping for babies, she flipped. (Maybe because she was older than Parker and slowly got the grandma feelings.) Thank god I was neither maternal nor… grandmaternal? Whatever.

Despite the now more obvious roundness of her stomach at four months along, Parker appeared as maternal as a machine-gun and looked on with a painful expression on her face while Christine hit the store like a whirlwind.

As we stood pretty close to the door, I slowly leaned into her, whispering into her ear: "We can bolt. I hold the door, you slip out, I come after you and we go for martinis."

She whispered back without taking her eyes off the howling dervish that was our friend.

"It's no fun without the booze."

I reassumed my position, leaning against the wall with my arms folded in front of my chest. Parker's eyes followed Christine through the store while she caressed her stomach with her palm. She was biting her lip without noticing which meant that she was tense. I didn't have to ask the reason since she had just told us, while climbing out of her racy car, that she was supposed to be having dinner with Jarod's parents and sister that night. I had asked her how she had managed to avoid it thus far, but she had only snorted. At least it seemed that her old friend Broots would accompany them. At least someone who liked her, I thought sarcastically. This wouldn't be easy on her. I wondered whether I should headlock Jarod and tell him to behave and not let his joy about being with his mommy and daddy again, overwhelm him.

"This is perfect! Isn't it, pal?" Christine held up a bunch of baby stuff and since she was gripping more than five items at a time, I was really confused.

Parker clasped her hands and smiled: "So beautiful! Give it to me, I'll pay for it."

"No you won't!" Christine replied in a sing-song voice, holding up her credit card. "I want to be godmother and I am prepared to pay for it!"

"You know you can't just buy anything!" I called after her, but she had already hurried towards the checkout.

Parker sighed. "Thank god it's over. Do you have any idea what it was that she picked?"

"Not at all, but if we finally get out of this hell now, I'm fine with anything," I replied and took Parker by the arm. "You sure you're up to that dinner tonight? You look a little pale."

"Delicate flower," she growled.

"Don't be sarcastic on me," I growled back.

"I'll be fine. This way I'll finally get that first meeting over with and Broots is like a little watchdog around me, so it will be fine."

She was repeating herself. Bad sign.

"Have you been to your doctor recently?"

"Yep. Gave me some pills." Parker showed me a container of pills that she carried in her handbag.

"Let me see." I checked out the label but since I didn't know much about these things, just stared at the letters blurring. Why was I acting like some crazy mother hen?

**Jarod**

Miss Parker had spent an excessive amount of time on her appearance that night and it was clear that she was uncomfortable although she looked stunning in a black skirt and a low cut black silk blouse that still didn't reveal too much. Her high heels clicked on the floor when she followed me towards the restaurant, Sammy by her side in her favorite green dress.

My parents were waiting in the lobby of the recently opened hotel that housed the restaurant we would be eating in. Tentative steps were usually not Parker's thing, but it seemed today that she was walking more slowly than usual and her holding Sammy's hand for once looked as if it was meant to comfort herself and not her child.

I held the door for her but when she stepped in, her hand brushed the door frame and I could see her fingers twitch as if she wanted to grab it for support but then restrained herself. A look into her face confirmed that something was wrong.

"Are you okay?" I brushed her cheek with my palm and was relieved not to find it burning as it usually did when her ulcer was acting up.

"I'm fine." She avoided my eyes when she reached for her handbag and pulled out a container of pills, swallowing one without water.

"If you are not feeling well, I'll take you home," I promised but she simply shook her head, a determined look in her eyes. Meeting my parents was quite a challenge for her and I knew that she never turned down one. She wouldn't back out now.

"Granny!" Sam did a little jump and then ran towards my parents who were approaching with bright smiles on their faces. My heart skipped a beat as I saw them and I placed my hand in my wife's back to guide her towards them.

Her face was completely void of any expression until Broots hurried towards us with a little wave and his usual uncomfortable grin. He hesitated, as usual, before he carefully hugged her.

"You look great, Miss Parker!" he enthused and then shook my hand forcefully. Dear old Broots. Parker held on to him a little longer than she used to, then smiled at him.

"Good to see you, moron."

The insult had long since become a term of endearment, so he beamed at her.

"Where's Sydney tonight?"

"It seems that he has a date," I said with a conspirational grin. Broots grinned widely. "That makes one of us."

We were interrupted by my parents who, with an excited Sammy in tow, had finally reached us from the other end of the lobby. Parker looked as if she was bracing for impact as she discovered that Emily was holding on to Sammy's hand.

"Mom, Dad, Emily," I hugged my family in turn, then gestured towards Parker.

"My wife, Michelle."

She did not even flinch at her first name, though Broots did, since she had expected it.

"Hello," she extended her hand and shook my father's who regarded her with a kind look. My mother, dressed in a flowery blue and white skirt and a cardigan, looked at her black clothes for a moment too long, then smiled and shook Parker's hand, too.

The only one who was unable to hide her disgust was Emily, who could only craft a very insincere smile. "Hi," she simply said, her hands buried deeply in the pockets of her jeans. More introductions were made and fortunately my family took to Broots a lot better than to Parker who was obviously very relieved to be able to deal with Sammy who suddenly announced that she had to go to the toilet.

When we met again in the restaurant whose huge bay windows overlooked the river, I could see that Parker was paler than usual even in the soft, dimmed light in the room.

"Now how's that morning sickness?" my mother asked, taking a sip from her glass of wine which I could see Miss Parker was staring at with some envy.

"Darling," my father groaned. "This is hardly a topic for dinner conversation."

"It's okay. I'm fine," Miss Parker replied, her tone still a little hollow. She quickly took a sip of her water to have something to do and not appear to be monosyllabic.

"Good. It's great when it's over, isn't it? You feel so much better although then the whole gaining weight part becomes relevant."

Parker gave a little cough, choked on her water and I desperately tried to come up with a good way to change the subject. Parker was so self-conscious about her growing stomach that my mother couldn't have picked a better way to make her uneasy if she had wanted to.

"Yes. I noticed that. It's becoming quite obvious. You're four months Jay said? A friend of mine looked like that when she was at least five." Emily said and seemed to really savor the taste of her wine as she gave a wide smile. Parker's look darkened, but she did not fire back with one of her infamous remarks.

"I think I am going to order the fish!" Broots suddenly announced, his voice a little loud and my mother gave him a startled look. She turned back to Parker to say something else, but Broots went on mercilessly.

"It sounds really good along with those potatoes… What are you going to have, Miss Parker?"

While the others were obviously still trying to work out why someone I had introduced as Parker's best friend would not call her by her first name, Parker smiled gratefully.

"I might just go for the soup."

"The soup?" My father asked, surprised. "That's not much. Don't forget you're eating for two."

Although my parents were really trying to make her feel appreciated, this was totally going the wrong way.  
"Yes, don't take my remark the wrong way!" Emily added. "I didn't mean you were especially fat or anything."

Somehow it didn't sound right with the emphasis put on the word "especially" and Miss Parker just smiled uneasily.

"I'm fine. Thanks."

"Oh come on. You must be craving something. How about the pork roast?" Emily asked, winking at her. "Lots of meat and a good sauce?" She laughed and made a dismissive gesture. "Don't you think you have to impress us by not eating! It's not your fault anyway if you blow up like a balloon."

Parker's facial expression had changed from discomfort to mild annoyance. Well, delete "mild"; she was beginning to look positively pissed off. Counting the fact that she still looked very slim and had never gained much weight despite the obvious in her first pregnancy, I couldn't help but doubt that my sister's intentions were as good as she let on. My mother seemed to feel something along those lines because she patted Emily's hand and gave her a warning look.

"Maybe you can let Michelle decide for herself. She can certainly use a few more pounds."

That seemed to soften Parker a bit and when we launched into a conversation about Sammy's latest achievements at school she even contributed a few sentences.

I noticed that Emily was ordering her glasses of wine in rapid succession, but didn't find a way to stop her. Thankfully she barely talked to Parker which I preferred over her hurtful remarks, whether they were intentionally so or not.

"So you're a district attorney?" My mother asked, when the first course arrived.

"No, I am a prosecutor working at the DA's office," Parker replied patiently while her soup stood steaming in front of her. Under the table I touched her hand softly.

**Miss Parker**

"So how do you manage such a demanding job while being a mother?" Jarod's mother asked and I swallowed. Although in my opinion I managed quite well, this was not my favorite topic.

"I only work part time and Jarod's practice is usually closed Thursdays so I work all day then," I gave her my usual statement.

"Mommy always picks me up from school except Thursdays, then Daddy is there and sometimes when Mommy has a trial, Sydney comes to pick me up and we go to the zoo or the cinema or to the library," Sammy chimed in.  
There was a flicker of something darker on both of Jarod's parents' faces when Sydney was mentioned and I understood that they still deemed him Jarod's former captor. At least there was someone who was less appreciated in that family than me.

"So you're going after the bad guys. But what about that little boy that was murdered a few months back? They never arrested anyone for that, did they?" Emily again.

That woman annoyed me to no end with her barely disguised animosities towards me and the ensuing comments that were meant to hurt me. I was not fat, I had to remind myself. Dr Summers was always encouraging me to eat more, that was. Emily had indicated that because she had noticed that it was a sensitive subject for me.

Emily looked a stylish kind of disheveled in her battered- looking jeans, with the bleached hair and the light green shirt she wore under a light linen blazer. She was pretty even, with Jarod's eyes and a nicely-shaped face. In said eyes, though, there was a glitter I didn't like when she looked at me. She was on her fourth glass of wine already and although it had barely arrived, she had nearly half finished it. From her flushed cheeks and the nervous darting of her eyes, however, I recognized that she was probably not used to that kind of alcohol intake. Was she trying to prove something to me here? Or was she just drinking because she knew I couldn't?

I suddenly felt lightheaded, dizzy even and I winced, but thankfully nobody noticed. When I had told Dr Summer about the symptoms this morning she had told me not to worry and to be generous with the pills she had given me two weeks prior. They were not real medication but would relieve the dizziness and benefit the baby in any way. Under the table, I carefully felt for my handbag and took another pill from it that I swallowed, again, without anyone noticing.

"Michelle?" I looked up nervously. "Yes?"

"I was asking about the little boy," Emily reminded me.

"Oh, yes." What was I to say? "No, they've never made an arrest in that one."

"Jay told us that the mother is your neighbor and that she attacked you. Freaky shit, if you ask me."

I inwardly shuddered at anyone calling Jarod "Jay" but she couldn't possibly know that it was what I called Jarod during sex. And if she did I would personally take my husband's life for telling her.

"Somebody attacked you?" Broots asked, shocked.

"It wasn't that bad."

"She said you killed her son, didn't she? Why would that be? It is so far-fetched!" Another insult in disguise went hand in hand with a large gulp of wine.

"Emily, please." Jarod finally interjected.

I felt anger welling up inside me again and gripped my spoon hard to relieve some of it.

"It is far-fetched," I said as evenly as I could manage.

"Yeah, or did you screw up the investigation or something?"

"I only took very little part in the investigation since it was the local sheriff's job."

Emily took another sip from her glass, rendering it empty again and from the look in her eyes I could see that she was going to deliver the final blow to my resistance any time soon. I really had to give credit to the little bitch. She managed to play my weaknesses time and again without me being able to pin it on her or to respond accordingly since I did not know about her weaknesses. A girl can try, though.

Jarod's parents were friendly enough and so the conversation returned to their granddaughter. Everyone was praising Sammy's smarts and her looks so we were back on common ground.

Jarod, who had noticed my earlier discomfort, had reached around me and his fingers now massaged my back and took some of the tension away. It was a really sweet and loving gesture and the disgusted look on Emily's face spoke volumes, so I gave a low sigh and turned to Jarod to kiss him gently on the lips. Emily's face darkened even more. Interesting.

The main course arrived and I actually enjoyed the salad I had ordered, so I let my guard down for a bit and talked to Broots.

Only minutes later, though, Emily gave it another shot. The wine seemed to lower her guard so the next insult was pretty obvious. Unfortunately Jarod and his parents were busy discussing baby names – no way I'd call any son of mine Cuthbert – and didn't overhear.

"Well, Michelle," the sounds rolled off her tongue in a rather drunk fashion. From the corner of my eye I could see Broots tense and my heart went out to him for a moment.

"Jarod could never properly explain how you went from chasing him with a gun to getting him to knock you up. He said something about amnesia but I didn't buy it."

Suddenly I knew for a fact that if I touched her hand right now, I'd get a jolt of hatred that was way stronger than the one I had received from Will's wife a few months ago. She really hated me. Unfortunately the attention of the others on the table now focused back on me so I couldn't respond appropriately.

"We fell in love and so we started a family," I said flatly.

"Yeah, but did you know you wanted to start a family with him when you tried to shoot Jarod countless times before that? Or when you tried to drag him back to that hellhole and have your brother torture him?"

"Mommy shot daddy?" Sammy asked, her eyes wide and questioning. We had never told her anything about that part of the past in order not to upset her and here Emily went and destroyed it all.

"Oh, sorry. She didn't know?" Emily added, her shock and embarrassment really well acted.

"Emily, can we just…" her mother tried, but Emily went on.

"If I had known that, Michelle, I am so sorry. How could I? I mean, knowing that her mother tried to kill her father and deliver him to an organization that would exploit his genius to kill god knows how many people must really upset the poor thing."

Sammy looked as if she was going to start crying any minute and I regretted deeply that I had not insisted on her sitting next to me instead of between her grandparents.

"Emily, it's…" Jarod began and I knew with sudden clarity that he was still buying her act of being sorry and not having meant to disturb Sammy.

She was hurting my daughter and possibly my relationship to her, so I didn't care anymore whether she was just trying to provoke me.

"Listen, Emily." My voice was so loud and sharp that everyone at the table was suddenly staring at me. Even Jarod didn't even try to resume his sentence.

There was a gleeful expression on Emily's face, so she didn't suspect yet that I had found her weak spot which she unknowingly had revealed to me through her comments.

"I am just so glad I met Jarod," I explained, feeling my husband relax next to me. I was almost sorry that I would have to surprise him. "And I love him very much. Being alone and bitter like you with such a longing for a child you'll never have must be horrific."

Her face fell and even without the blast of anger and pain that I could clearly feel coming from her, I would have known that I had hit home. So that was it. She was jealous and bitter that from a relationship like ours could come a happy marriage and children. I had tried to fit into this family and ignore her trying to hurt me, but now I couldn't stop myself even though I knew this comment alone would have been enough.

"How old are you now, Emily? Thirty-eight, is it? Chances must be slim to find a suitable guy in time to start a family. And especially when you are so bitter that you feel the need to upset a little girl who hasn't done anything to you just to hurt its mother whom you detest for the sole reason that she has everything you will most likely never have."

The silence around the table was deafening as everyone stared at Emily who looked crestfallen. I felt almost sorry for her when she got to her legs shakily, then grabbed her empty glass and threw it at the floor where it shattered, alerting the other costumers. I held her stare and noticed the tears spilling from her eyes.

"You are such a fucking bitch!" she yelled, then practically ran out.

Gazes turned from her to me and I could see anger forming in Major Charles' and disbelief in Margaret's eyes.

"How could you?" Margaret asked. "She is anxious enough as it is. She's even in therapy because of it!"

"Her boyfriend left her last year and she found out that she couldn't have kids!" Jarod added. "Didn't I tell you that? Oh wait." His eyes darkened. "I probably did."

"No, you didn't."

"What is wrong with auntie Emily?" An oblivious Sammy asked with obvious distress. "Is she upset that Mommy shot Daddy?"

I could feel my throat tighten. They were obviously making me out to be the villain and I had just proved to them that I was every inch the monster they had initially thought I was. Sudden sickness threatened me and the dizziness returned full force.

"Parker, how could you?" Jarod asked, his voice barely lowered. "Why did you do that to her?"

The pain intensified and now I pushed my chair back and walked towards the door in a hurry.

"Wait!" Broots, who had been sitting next to me, got up and followed me out.

Inside the lady's room I grabbed the sink and stared into the mirror, trying to focus my gaze. The fact that I had just completely screwed-up any chance to ever be accepted in Jarod's family suddenly didn't seem very relevant anymore as I could hardly stay upright. I gasped and felt my fingers slip from the edge of the sink, unable to breathe at all. The pills were in my handbag in the restaurant and I doubted they would help me now. But so was my cell-phone.

I was grateful when the door to the bathroom opened and I looked up at the person, only now realizing that I had dropped to my knees. Surprise must have lit up my face as I managed: "You?"

**To be continued…**

(Yes, I know I am evil. I'm sorry.)

;-)


	13. Part Thirteen

**Part Thirteen**

_**This chapter is not very long but I thought I'd be nice for once and not keep you waiting until I am back from my vacation. :)**_

**Jarod**

All of a sudden my family reunion had turned into a massacre. With three people missing from the table, my parents in various stages of disbelief and Sammy crying for her mother while half the restaurant was looking on with a fair share of curiosity, I began to feel extremely uncomfortable.

"It's fine, baby, come here." I lifted Sammy from her chair and pulled her into my arms, caressing the back of her head with my hand. "It's alright."

My parents remained their silence and somehow I would have preferred them to discuss the matter in angry words as I was used to from my wife so I could reason with them. Since although they were my parents, I hadn't known them for a long time actually, I couldn't tell how bad it was just from looking at them over the shaking frame of my little daughter.

"Jarod, it seems your wife has some issues," my mother finally said and the way she said "you wife" didn't improve my desolate state one bit.

"She's upset about gaining weight and she didn't want…" I couldn't talk about Sammy as if she wasn't in the room, so I did not finish my sentence. We would have a lot of explaining to do once we got home.

"Gaining weight is perfectly normal in a pregnancy. And it's not her first either. There is no justifying what she did to Emily, son," my father added with a solemn expression on his face.

"I don't know what got into her," I said, at a loss. "She's usually very sweet."

The stares my parents gave me told me better than words could have ever done, that they did not believe one word of what I was saying.

"I'm sorry, Jarod. You chose your wife because you love her and you have a wonderful daughter, but…" Obviously my mother was reluctant to discredit Parker in front of Sammy and so she simply furrowed her brows, looking lost. "It's just that I have been asking myself the same questions Emily has."

"I don't think we should talk about this now." I kissed Samantha on the forehead and carefully wiped some of her tears away. "Listen, honey, I will check up on Mommy now and you stay with granny, okay?"

She nodded and although it didn't feel right to leave her alone right now, I handed her over to my mother, who immediately wrapped her arms around her while my father gestured for the waiter who was cleaning up Emily's glass to bring a dessert for Sam.

**Miss Parker**

"Miss Parker, what is wrong with you?" Dr Summers felt my forehead and grabbed my arm to help me to my feet. It was weird to see my doctor in anything else than the white lab coat that she always wore to work so I was taken aback for a moment while she steadied me.

"I've been feeling so dizzy," I told her, relieved to have someone to lean on just now.

"It's okay. Have you been taking your pills?"

I nodded. "Yes, but they don't seem to help. It almost feels as if they were making it worse."

She stroked my arm gently. "It's fine. Sometimes they take some time to take effect."

"I've been taking them for two weeks now and look at me," I growled. "I can't even walk straight."

"Maybe that is also due to the confrontation at your table," Dr Summers said gently. "I'm sorry, I couldn't help but overhear."

"Yeah, they could probably hear it all over Texas."

Dr Summers gave a little smile whose nervousness was somewhat misplaced, then held the door for me. "Look, let's go outside for a bit and then I can drive you home. You need to lie down and put your feet up. That baby certainly doesn't like you kneeling on cold bathroom floors."

I shook my head. "My keys are at the table."

"Never mind. I'll just walk you out for some fresh air then."

Dr Summers steadied me and guided me through the lobby towards the main entrance. The cool air outside cleared my head instantly and I felt safe not hanging on to my doctor for a moment. I hated being dependent and holding on to someone's shoulder for dear life felt extremely uncomfortable to me.

Dr Summers had just taken her handbag from her shoulder in order to retrieve something, when Broots suddenly appeared in front of us.

"M… Miss Parker!" he quickly came towards me and clumsily put an arm around my waist, though still barely touching me. Sometimes I thought he knew me better than anyone in this world which was probably due to his watching my every move with something closely resembling awe for several years.

For some reason Dr Summers looked annoyed when she acknowledged his presence.

"And you are…?"  
"Broots, a friend of the family," he extended his hand but Dr Summers didn't take it.

"Maybe you retrieve get her hand bag? I would like to drive my patient home. She needs rest."

"She's my doctor," I explained, suddenly feeling exhausted.

"It's okay. I will drive her home. Are you sure you don't want to sit down, Miss Parker?" Broots rubbed my back slowly, while he made his offer which was a little much already.

"I'm fine."

The door opened and Jarod stepped through, looking distraught.

" There you are. Are you okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be after a fun night out with your lovely sister?" I snapped, but regretted it instantly. That retort seemed to have taken up all my energy at once.

"I'm going to drive you home," Jarod said woodenly.

"If you'd like to stay with your family, I can drive Miss Parker home," Broots said.

The fact alone that Jarod seemed to consider that offer made my heart contract.

"That's a good idea, Broots," I quickly chimed in before Jarod could say anything. I'd rather hurt myself than allow myself to be rejected by someone. Good old self-preservation instincts kicking in.

**Dr Summers**

The best laid plans, I thought bitterly and whipped out my cell phone once the annoying man had left with Miss Parker in tow. I dialed the familiar number, then waited for someone to pick up the phone.

"Yes?"

"It's me. It didn't work."

"Something wrong with the pills?" The voice on the other end sounded as hollow and detached as ever.

"No, she's a wreck physically and she's had quite a situation with Jarod's family, but before I could get her into my car, some guy named Broots got in my way and snatched her away. I couldn't make my move."

There was a short but pregnant silence on the other end of the line.

"Then try again."

The call was ended before I had a chance to reply and I sighed, rolling my eyes towards the dark sky. Why did everything have to go wrong?

**Broots**

"I'm sorry you had to witness that. If I had known that the evening would go all sorts of wrong, I would have spared you," Miss Parker said and accepted the steaming cup of tea with a gracious yet sad smile.

"It wasn't your fault. I understand Jarod and his parents didn't pay attention to everything Emily said. I did, though, and she was clearly trying to provoke you. She was wrong, by the way. You look very beautiful."  
"Yeah, except I am as pale as a vampire." But my comment made her smile despite herself, which in turn made me happy. Even after all these years it still felt new and exciting to not be her subordinate anymore but her friend. She had given up taunting me after the Centre had fallen and I could only feel awe at how sweet she was to me. Of course, she wouldn't have been Miss Parker if she hadn't got some enjoyment out of snapping at me every once in a while, but it was nothing compared to her demeanor at the Centre.

"Well, it doesn't matter why. I've clearly screwed up."

There was no denying and so I resorted to putting my arm round her shoulders to which she surprisingly reacted by leaning against me. I had always found her perfume to be intoxicating and I had to admit right here, that even now that she was pregnant with another man's child, I desired her like nothing else in this world. I always had and whenever we didn't see each other for a while – which due to both our demanding lives did happen a lot - , I was sure I was over her. Unfortunately I was always wrong since she blew me away again, every time we met. I had a hard time hiding it from both her and Jarod and although I knew that it would have been better to avoid close proximity to her, I found myself unable to.

"They got it all wrong, thought I had turned all psycho bitch on Emily for no reason. And Jarod thinks I had used information he gave me about Emily's life against her, when he didn't even tell me."

"I know. I'm sure you two can work it out."

I tried my hardest to be helpful and fight the unwelcome feeling of excitement that came up when I thought about what the possibilities were if maybe they could not work it out this time. I hated myself for that feeling since in my right mind, I did not want Jarod and Miss Parker to split up. I also knew that I wouldn't stand a chance as a possible love interest even if they did.

"I'm not so sure. We're going through a pretty rough time with his family suddenly turning up. I mean, I can even understand that they don't trust me, but I simply didn't expect to be attacked by Emily in that way."

"Why should you have? As you pointed out, she obviously acted out her frustration about her situation. When you feel that powerless I guess it helps to have someone you can hate. If you explain it to him I'm sure Jarod will understand."

"You think so?" She raised her head from its resting place on my shoulder and looked into my eyes, sending chills through my whole body. "Oh," she said softly before I could reply.

"What is it? Are you okay?" I asked, alarmed.

"Yes, yes I am," she smiled. "I just felt my baby move. For the first time actually."

"Did you?" was all I could manage to say, while I was suddenly choked up.

She grinned. "Would you like to feel it?"

"I don't know…" I began, halfway ready to spill the beans about my rather trying to not get to close to her or even touch her, but she had already taken my hand. It felt as if the air was suddenly out of my lungs when she placed my hand over her swollen middle and I felt a soft movement. Her fragrant hair robbed me of every sensible thought and I was fighting hard not to imagine what it would be like if I wasn't a friend keeping her company but her husband and father to her child instead.

There was a moment of silence while she concentrated on the baby's movements and I failed miserably at trying to force my thoughts away from that fantasy.

If she was my wife, I thought, I would have never allowed any member of my family to talk to her like that. I knew that Jarod was often fed up with her ways, but I couldn't imagine a situation in which I would lose my patience with her.

I smirked at my own stupidity. I was probably making her out to be someone she was not, was thinking she could do no wrong just because I was so hopelessly in love with her and had been for such a long time.

"Thanks for being there for me, Broots," she said and smiled up at me to which I could only reply with a nod that felt forced and awkward.

"Are you okay?" she asked. "You look a little scared."

"No, I'm…" I fully turned towards her quickly sliding my hand off her middle. "I… Miss Parker, I…"

She looked at me expectantly, as if she had no idea what would be next.

"I just…" Please, I begged god to send anything to make me stop, to keep me from saying what had been inevitable for years.

"Broots? No need to stutter. Whatever you say, I'll not kill you." Her amusement at my clumsiness was the last straw and somehow pushed me over the edge.

"I love you." Blurting it out felt as good as it felt horrible, but unfortunately I was unable to stop myself and I didn't know what I was doing until I felt her soft, slightly parted lips under mine.

"You must be kidding me!"

**Jarod**

I stood in the doorway to the living-room, my sleeping daughter in my arms and what I saw made me nauseous. Broots had gently grabbed my wife's face with both hands and had just pressed his lips to hers. It wasn't obvious from what I could see, whether she was about to resist or not. Still, even if she was, she should have been able to see this coming. We all had.

Broots paled and jumped off the couch while my wife remained with a puzzled look on her face, touching her lips.

"Get out of here!" I growled at Broots which caused Sammy to stir in my arms.

"Mommy?" she asked sleepily and Parker quickly rose to take the child into her arms. Although I didn't like the fact that she was lifting a five year old in her condition, I handed her over.

Contrary to what I had believed, Broots was standing his ground instead of leaving in an embarrassed hurry.

"Listen, Jarod!" he told me in a surprisingly firm voice that didn't seem to match the man who had once tried to defend himself against his alleged attacker – me – with a spoon.

"I knew it was wrong to kiss your wife, but you know what? She certainly deserves better than someone like you who can't see her for who she is. Someone who is so blinded by his desire for his own happiness, that he can't see beyond the façade. Your sister provoked Miss Parker in every possible way and you didn't even notice! I am not sorry for being there for her."

And with that, he finally left.

I turned to Parker who was still holding Sammy and my glare was met with a dark stare.

"Don't you say anything," she said, her voice as deep a growl as it used to be at the Centre.

**To be continued…**


	14. Part Fourteen

**Chapter Fourteen**

_Please note that any medical info that I use in the story is just there to move the plot along. I googled those bits so I do not vouch for their accuracy. I hope you enjoy this chapter._**  
**

**Jarod**

„Out of my way, chap. I am on a mission." Compelled by the power of Val, I stepped aside and allowed her to waltz into the house.

"I know I really shouldn't be talking to your insensitive ass right now, but I feel the need to tell you that you're making a bloody soap opera out of your life." Having said those words she nodded, as if satisfied with herself, then proceeded up the stairs where Parker had taken up residence in her study. I hadn't even tried to trespass since from earlier incidents I knew her to throw books at the door if I did as much as knock.

It was only two minutes later, that the doorbell rang again. Warily, I trotted towards the door and opened it to reveal Christine in a velvet evening gown, a stern look on her face.

"Well, well," she said without preamble. "Would you like some epic with that fail?" She cocked a perfectly plucked eyebrow and motioned for me to step aside so she could enter.

No further words were exchanged as she elegantly lifted a corner of her flowing skirt in order to climb the stairs. She had probably been on a date of some sorts when Parker had called her. I went back into the living-room where on the small coffee-table, I had put an item I had not looked at in years. Having it stored away in a closet in the basement, I had almost been able to tell myself that I had forgotten about it. Now faced with it again, it seemed like an alien object from another universe. The dust was smeared as I ran my fingers over the smooth surface of the DSA-player and picked a familiar disk.

With the flipping of a switch, a little boy appeared on the screen, his brows furrowed and his body slumped on a bed. A young man approached him and sat down next to him.

"You look sad, Jarod."

"I am, Sydney."

There was a moment of silence and Sydney's hand twitched, as if he actually wanted to touch his protegee reassuringly but then restrained himself for the sake of protocol.

"I miss my mom and dad."

I felt just as choked up as I had always felt when I had watched the heart-breaking moment. I was still feeling the pain of being so lonely but only because it had lasted long into my adult years. The moment itself which I was watching right now, was forever lost from my memory and I envied the little boy for the knowledge he possessed, the memories of his parents he still had, while his older self had forgotten and was unable to retrieve them.

"I know you do, Jarod. But we have to work on the SIM."

"I want to see my mommy," little Jarod pleaded.

I hit the button again and the screen went dark. For years it had been this little boy's ambition to find his family and finally be a son again. And now he had accomplished that goal. But at what cost? I wasn't that little boy anymore, I realized. I was now also a husband and father and I had other responsibilities than I had had back when he had first fled the Centre.

Did I have to choose now? Was that the key to solving this situation? And why couldn't those two families merge into one? Was there even a slim chance of accomplishing that with everything that had happened? I knew what I had to do, but I couldn't bring myself to doing it.

**Miss Parker**

Sitting on the couch in my study I watched Val sit in my office chair and savor some of the Scotch I kept in a bottle in my desk drawer while Christine paced the lengths of the room with her long skirt swishing noisily whenever she turned. She looked very impressive, almost like a British queen.

"Can't believe Brootsie snogged you," Val finally opened the conversation and took another draft of the amber liquid.

"He tried."

"Was the man's tongue involved, pal?" Christine asked, dramatically turning on her heel.

"Not yet."

"Then the situation is not as grave as we thought," Christine mused.

"Why would the absence of the tongue in her mouth rule this 'not as grave as we thought'?" Val shot back. "Her husband walked in on them!"

"He deserves whatever comes his way!" Christine snapped. "His behavior at the restaurant was beyond stupid."

"Well, the poor man is between a rock and a hard place, Chris. Sister hates wife, wife has sharp tongue."

"I think we should stop all the talking about tongues. The thought of Broots' tongue in my mouth gives me the creeps, honestly." I interjected quickly, before they could raise their voices even more. I didn't want them to wake Sammy who had been shaken up enough when I had tucked her in. Some serious explanations were in order tomorrow morning and I wasn't looking forward to them.

"Tongue," Val said, emphasizing the word, which made Christine chuckle and me hit her.

"Not funny."

"Sorry."

"Now what are you going to do about Jarod?" Christine asked, her hands on her hips.

"I don't know. That's why I called you."

I sank back into the cushions of the couch and gave my best friends a long look. It was still new to me to have friends and to be able to discuss my problems with them in order to find a passable solution that did not solely mean to shut down and not let anybody in. Over the years I'd had minor crises which we had discussed and overcome successfully. This, however, was an entirely different matter. Still, they stood by me and gave me lots of comfort by just being there. I felt like hugging them both but then decided not to. No point in becoming a sappy despicable little creature.

"I'd say dump him if not for the kids," Christine announced.

"I'd say beat him with a stick," Val added thoughtfully. I decided that I needed to remember to have her take a taxi home later as she once again topped her whiskey.

"How about some _useful _advice?" I asked, uncomfortably stretching my back. My fall on the bathroom floor in the hotel, which I was still to tell my friends about , had given me a backache. Unfortunately my resident magic hands were kind of mad at me.

"I am sorry, pal. I just don't know whether he'll be able to make the stretch between his families," Christine mused. "He seems so lost and innocent when it comes to that matter."

"Little puppy that he is, he still loves you besides all his stupidity. You should try to work it out, put your personal issues aside for a moment," Val said. Her British accent was always stronger when she tried to be especially reasonable.

"My personal issues?" I asked, weakly, aware of the fact that she would give me a good beating next.

"He's nuts, but you are, too," Val said matter-of-factly. "We wouldn't be friends if you weren't because I am nuts, too."

"What she is trying to say is that you always try to be invincible despite the fact that you are just human. Just like us," Christine explained patiently. "Show him how you really feel without making it look as if you didn't need anyone. I mean, look at you. All barefoot and pregnant."

"I am not barefoot," I said, stubbornly.

"But you are in a delicate condition and you need to…."

"Christine, we are both going barf if you don't stop babbling soon," Val looked as stern as she did when she told the jury to stick the defendant in jail for life.

"I don't really know how to show anyone how I feel," I finally admitted. Maybe I had just become aware of it for the very first time myself because the words felt weird as they rolled off my tongue.

"You're doing it right now."

"I am talking about it. That is different." I suddenly felt tears welling up inside me, but found my body repressing them instinctively at the same time. I had never been able to really allow Jarod in my personal space. Being completely on my own for so many years had taken more of a toll on me than I had imagined.

"Cry if you want to, because… I BROUGHT THIS!" Christine extracted a box of tissues very much like the one Sydney had always kept in his office and put it on the desk with flourish. Val patted her shoulder affectionately.

"Half the time I have no idea what you're talking about, but sometimes you just know how to do the right thing," she said with some approval.

"Have I ever told you two nut cases how much you mean to me?" I burst out without much of my dignity left.

Christine practically flung herself at me, hugging me while Val just smiled. "I hope you're not going to, hon."

**Jarod**

While usually Val and Christine had the antics of a marching-band when they paraded around the house, today they vanished without much ado. The only thing I could hear was the soft clicking of the front door and when I looked up, Parker stood in the doorway. She had changed into comfortable slacks and one of my t-shirts which I took for a good sign. I wasn't even sure whether I was still angry with her or whether I had ever really been. Siding with my family always came naturally when they were around but as soon as I was on my own again it usually felt as if I had just come off mind-altering drugs.

"Watching home movies?" she asked, pointing at the DSA-player that was still sitting on the coffee table.

"Just thinking about a few things."

"Yes. Me, too."

She approached the couch and lowered herself down on it, her hand on her stomach. We sat in silence for a moment, before she took my hand. I wondered when she had last done that but came up empty-handed. She did like to be hugged by me or sleep in my arms, but she was very guarded when it came to public displays of affection.

"He's moving," she said and it took me a moment to understand that she was talking about our son. Without asking for her approval, I moved my hand over her slightly swollen middle and waited until I could feel a very soft flutter.

"Do you remember the night Sammy was born?" she asked after a long silence and I couldn't help but notice her slight hesitation. This wasn't our favorite topic and we usually avoided it when we could, so I was surprised that she would bring it up tonight. Was that a good or a bad sign? As fatalistic as she was sometimes, I instinctively believed it to be the latter.

"How could I forget it?" I replied cautiously.

"I was in so much pain, I am afraid I wasn't quite myself." I was surprised as she admitted it for the very first time. Back then she had always given me the impression that it had all been my fault.

"I didn't know how to act any differently from how I did," she continued and I couldn't help but in my mind return to that night. I had been woken by Parker's pained hiss and had been fully awake in a matter of seconds. Since she had been so badly wounded and nearly died in the collapsing Centre, I was always on alert.

"Are you okay?" I asked, reaching around her instinctively.

"I…" She sounded scared and slapped my offered hand away when she struggled to sit up. Her breaths were irregular and she rubbed her stomach, moaning slightly. "I think I am in labor, Jarod."

My heart began to beat faster with both excitement and fear.

"I'll drive you to the hospital. Let me just call ahead." I was already half out of bed when I remembered to turn around and cup her pale cheek with my hand. She looked genuinely scared.

"How far apart are the contractions?"

"Eight minutes", she answered without the slightest hesitation.

"But… then you must have been in labor for quite some time!"

"Five hours, Jarod. Hurry!" she said from between gritted teeth and before I could question her any further, she had risen from the bed.

Fifteen minutes later we arrived at the local hospital, twenty minutes on I was sitting at her bedside, holding her hand, while she grew paler and paler.

"You need to breathe," I told her soothingly and reached out to stroke her forehead, but she turned her head away from me and gave a pained cry when another contraction hit.

"Your husband is right, Miss Parker," the doctor said. "You need to breathe through it."

"I… I can't." Parker's voice was far beyond strained and I could only guess how much pressure was on her lungs.

"You can, you just have to…" I began in a bid to pass some of the information I had gained from the Lamaze classes she had stubbornly refused to attend, but she shook her head, taking a short and ragged breath. "I can't… breathe…" And now I realized that something must be really wrong.

"Could you please step aside, sir." The doctor was talking with controlled urgency as they strapped an oxygen mask to Parker's face. Her eyes were wide and glassy as she was struggling for breath. Damn it. The doctor in the ER after our escape from the Centre had told us that this might happen, but I hadn't expected it to.

My vision was blurred while I watched the doctor and the nurse calm Miss Parker down until they could take the mask off. They helped her into a sitting position and when she winced in pain again, I shot forward to reclaim her hand.

"Please…" she begged the doctor breathlessly. "Please get him out of here."

"But, Parker…" I tried in vain because she simply shook her head, unwilling to even talk to me or really acknowledge my trying to get through to her.

"Get him out."

"I am sorry, sir. She needs all her strength and she is already in enough of a frenzy," the elderly nurse said and touched my shoulder to gently move me towards the door. The last thing I saw before the door closed was Miss Parker's slapping away the doctor's outstretched hand.

Half an hour later said nurse had walked out into the corridor where I was waiting, a small bundle in her arms that she had handed over to me so I could see my daughter's face for the very first time.

**Miss Parker**

One of the benefits of having known each other your whole life is that you can tell exactly what the other one is thinking. Jarod looked distant, as if in another world or back in the hospital where I had demanded he was sent out.

I remembered laying in that hospital bed after giving birth, my baby outside where I had insisted it would be taken first to meet its father. I had been exhausted and full of pain, aching to hold my daughter, but I had known that after depriving Jarod of seeing his daughter being born – which he had been looking forward to so much – the least I could do was allow him to hold her first.

I'd suddenly felt as alone and empty as if I had actually gone through with my father's initial plan. That is what it would have felt like to give her up to the Centre immediately after giving birth, I thought, horrified at the thought. And how could I explain to Jarod what had just happened?

I hadn't explained it back then, had just stretched my arms out for Sammy when he had walked back in and kissed her little face. I had never explained it. Not even when we had started fighting about it, when we'd had endless discussion about why I had done that to him.

"I would like to tell you why I was like that," I finally told Jarod, now and I could see from the surprised look on his face, that he had expected everything but.

"We nearly broke up over that back then and now you're finally going to tell me what was wrong?" There was no anger in his voice, just disbelief.

"I am sorry, but…" I trailed off. "Back then I didn't know what it was and later I just didn't want to remind you and myself by talking about it."

He looked at me expectantly and I realized that he no longer cared why I hadn't told him earlier, just wanted to finally know all my reasons for being the bad bitch from hell.

"I was afraid," I finally admitted. "So damn scared and the only way I knew was to do it alone. You know, it wasn't about you or anyone else. Just about me. When I am scared and I don't know how to deal with a situation I can't help it. I just have to do it on my own because allowing people to help me is just not what I was taught to do. It makes me feel so weak. I am better now, I am learning."

Jarod looked at me for a long moment: "That's all? It is that simple a reason?"

I nodded, desperately hoping for him to be able to even faintly grasp what I had just said. Yes, the reason sounded simple and almost pathetic. The problem was that I could not help who I was. I was trying every day and most of the time I adapted to life, but it was still a daily struggle. And back then, it had been even worse.

"I didn't even know who I was. When I regained my memory it felt as if I had been woken from a long sleep. I was still the person I had been during the amnesia but all the baggage from my old self had returned. I was suddenly pregnant and in love with you and my old self just couldn't deal with it. And Jarod…" I took a deep breath. "I think you're right. I should have really gone to see a shrink."

He took my hand a squeezed it. "I understand."

"I'm so sorry…"

"Don't be." Jarod leaned forward and very gently kissed my lips, filling me with the same tingly feeling that I'd had when we had first kissed a long time ago. His arms went around me and when he gently broke the kiss, he kissed my forehead.

"We're making this work," he said quietly. "I won't let you down around my parents anymore and you refrain from locking lips with former subordinates and it will all be okay."

Only when I laughed, I noticed the tears that had been running down my cheeks.

"I've never really seen you cry," he said and it sounded almost wondrous.

"I've always thought men who took pleasure in seeing their pregnant wives cry were cruel bastards," I said, unable to suppress the mixture of a chuckle and a sob that emerged from my throat.

"So did I."

We grinned at each other for a moment then Jarod pulled me fully into his arms.

"I guess I have to apologize for Emily, but you were pretty harsh with her, too."

"She upset Sammy with her stories about me trying to kill you."

"I know."

"We need to talk to Sammy about this. I barely got her to fall asleep earlier, but she was so exhausted that I guess it was right not to explain it all to her right away."

"We will. Anyway, what was Dr Summers doing at the hotel earlier?"

"Met her in the bathroom."

I went on to explain to Jarod how I had almost fainted and he creased his forehead.

"You said she gave you medication to relieve your dizziness?"

"Yes. Some herbal stuff. She said that my blood pressure was a little low and she knew patients on which herbal treatments had already worked. There are also vitamin supplements mixed in there, heck, I didn't really listen to her."

"You never do. Show me those pills."

"They are in my handbag. It's in my study."

He cupped my cheek and kissed me again which suddenly made me realize how little we had been touching each other during the past weeks and then got up from the sofa.

"I'll have a look at them."

"Doctors…!" I called after him then leaned back into the cushions of the sofa where Broots had kissed me just a couple of hours ago. I had always suspected he had a thing for me and Sydney, naturally, had always been certain of it. Poor Broots, I thought. I hoped I wasn't the reason that he had never found love even after his departure from Blue Cove. I loved Broots, in my own way, but I was simply not attracted to him. It had felt good to be comforted by him although it wasn't actually part of our relationship and already being so physically close to him, I had not realized what he had been about to do until it was too late. I touched my fingers to my lips just as I had done in the immediate aftermath of the kiss. It had been such a weird feeling and it had reminded me of the fact that I had been with the same man for six years now. And that I had never before had a relationship that had lasted that long. Broots had been the first man other than Jarod to touch his lips to mine for a very long time. And I had lied. Kissing Broots hadn't felt half as gross as I had told my girlfriends. On the contrary, it had been very tender and sweet. Still, it had only served to give me a sense of belonging. I knew who I wanted to be with without a doubt and having another man kiss me had just proved the point.

"This is weird," Jarod's voice sounded from the doorway and a moment later he lowered himself onto the sofa next to me.

"What?"

"On the label it says vitamin supplements with a herbal component. It is actually quite a common treatment. Who knows whether it actually works but sometimes the placebo effect alone is enough. I had this hypochondriac little patient. Joey, remember? I prescribed it to him so I know what the pills look like. And this is not it."

"What do you mean?" I asked, a sense of foreboding beginning to plague me. I had been a victim of exchanged pills before. Back then it had been birth control pills that had been swapped with fertility drugs. All they had brought me were a beautiful daughter… but now?

"Are you sure? Maybe they come in different shapes?"

"These ones are far too huge, actually," Jarod said, frowning with worry. "We should have these analyzed."

"Analyzed? Surely there must have been a mistake?"

"Did you get these at the pharmacy?"

"No. Dr Summers had them in stock. She just gave them to me."

"Is that her common practice?"

"What do you mean?"

He shrugged. "Does she usually just hand out medication? She would normally give you a prescription, wouldn't she?"

"Yes…" I said hesitantly, not yet ready to face the possibilities, but Jarod was already on his feet.

"I'll call Sydney so he can come over and watch Sammy. You need to see a doctor right away."

He hurried out into the hall to get the phone while I stood, frozen in place. What the hell was Dr Summers up to? I had been her patient for three years now and there had never been a problem. Trust wasn't my thing, but I did trust her the way a patient trusts their doctor. Feeling dizzy again, I leaned against the kitchen counter and took a deep breath. I had told her about my mild light-headedness and she had jumped to provide me with the little container of pills that Jarod now found so offensive. I had never questioned her motives with my mind elsewhere on the impending meeting with my parents in law. Vitamins? Good. Herbal remedies? Why the heck not? I had not given it a second thought when she had blabbed on about how many pregnant women had felt much better after taking said pills and how my body still needed to adjust to the child growing inside me. Yadda. Yadda. And the dizziness hadn't got any better. On the contrary, it had become worse. I had back then appointed it to my feeling increasingly uneasy due to the dinner date from hell approaching fast.

My mind was racing. I had never been good with taking medication as I had been advised to. Actually, I had almost always overdosed my ulcer medication in an attempt to get rid of the symptoms more quickly. With herbal remedies I hadn't even thought twice about taking more of the pills than the label on the bottle had said. And hadn't Dr Summers even encouraged me to do so? My throat felt dry and at the same time I felt rage bubbling up.

If anything was wrong with my child, Summers was going to pay for it.

**TBC**


	15. Part Fifteen

**Chapter Fifteen**

_This chapter is rather short but I'll promise for the next one to be longer... and sooner hopefully!_ :-)

**Jarod**

"This might feel a bit cold at first", Dr. Burton was a friendly man in his late fifties and had also been in attendance when Miss Parker had last been admitted. It felt like a lifetime ago when I had found her doubled-over on the floor in our house and I took her hand, glad that at least she wasn't in pain this time.

Dr. Burton ran the ultrasound across Parker's bare stomach and I stared at the screen in concentration. Although we were here to get her checked out for a frightening reason, my heartbeat accelerated a little with joy at the sight of our baby. I squeezed Parker's hand but she didn't seem to notice. The tablets had already been sent to the lab for analysis and they had drawn her blood to get it checked out, too. So far all readings had been okay but we couldn't be sure until we received the lab results.

"He looks healthy enough…" The doctor mumbled and stepped closer to the screen to inspect the image more closely. "He's a little on the small side but that's nothing to worry about."

The tiny heart was beating rhythmically and the sound was quite reassuring. When he was finished with his examination, Dr. Burton gave a satisfied nod.

"Your baby looks perfectly healthy for now, Miss Parker, but we will have to wait for the results of the blood-tests. I'd appreciate it if you could stay the night."

Miss Parker didn't look entirely happy with that request but nodded obediently. No tantrum for once.

"I'll have someone prepare a room. You can wait here and rest until we're set up and ready for you." He leaned forward and gave her a warm smile. "Don't worry too much. And sleep well."

When he had left the room, I watched Parker remove the gel from her stomach with the tissue she had been given. When she was finished, she pulled her pullover down and looked at me uncertainly.

"You should go home and stay with Sammy," she said softly.

"She's with Sydney and Angelo. They'll be fine."

She nodded then stretched her arms out for me and I stepped into them and kissed her forehead while I held her.

"I won't leave you alone like this, Parker."

Thirty minutes later she was in the bed of the single room a friendly male nurse had led us into and I was sitting on a chair next to her.

"Remember back then we were making out in the hospital bed and that old spinster came in?" she asked, smiling at the memory and I knew at once what she was referring to.

"I do. She then told you that I knew about your ulcers and you stormed out of there. Damn the old bat."

She smiled. "God, I hated you that evening."

"You must have hated me even more when you learned that I had knocked you up." I grinned back and she reached for my hand. "Don't sit there like that. I want you in my bed."

"Is that an offer to do something dirty and inappropriate?"

"No. I just want to be in your arms. It feels safer that way."

"You're getting all sorts of soft," I told her jokingly.

"Don't tell anyone. I'll be back to normal before you know it."

I climbed in bed behind her and wrapped my arms around her, my hands on hers that were covering her stomach. "Have you thought about a name, yet?"

"Not Cuthbert."

"Apparently that's one of my uncles. I can only apologize for my mother bringing it up."

She chuckled and turned around in my arms to face me. "I can't come up with anything before I've seen him." She hesitated for a moment then suddenly became serious. "Do you think I will?"

The sad look in her eyes should have told me what she was talking about, but I asked anyway: "Why wouldn't you?"

"What if those pills hurt him?"

I stroked her back gently because I knew it to be relaxing for her.

"We don't know yet what is up with those pills, Parker. So far he seems fine. We will just have to wait."

"You're right, Jarod. I have become a sappy scared little housewife," she said bitterly. "I used to not let things get to me like that."

"It's okay. You're a mother, now. They always worry."

"And how would you know," she said sarcastically, but I let it slip and instead placed my hand over her stomach and lightly pressed down on it.

"I'll keep you safe, I promise." I knew that she wasn't the type who wanted to be kept safe. She wanted to be independent, to save herself, but this time she would have to let me chaperone her for a while. A pained moan snapped me out of my reminiscence.

"Are you okay?"

"Let me just…" she sat up and rubbed her stomach just below her ribcage. "It's that damn ulcer I think. Right on time to make my life even more of a misery."

I tried not to show my relief too much. Thank god it wasn't the baby.

"Maybe that's where your symptoms came from," I offered.

"Then what about those pills?"

"I don't know. Do you have your medication with you?"

The question had been more of a rhetorical one because I knew that she had been so afraid of another ulcer-related problem that she had been carrying medication at all times even during the last five years when she hadn't had any symptoms at all. I grabbed her handbag from the chair in the corner and went through it in the half-darkness of them room. After coming up with lipstick, car-keys, a note from Val ("Hey Skinny, I miss the drinking. Let's go to a bar tonight and pretend to get badass-drunk, Val.") and forty dollars in cash I finally found what I had been looking for. She accepted the medication thankfully and swallowed some of it. Then she lay back on the bed and sighed.

"Does it hurt much?" I asked stupidly.

"Like when your insides are twisted into knots. Oh, and add some nasty action involving a knife."

"Is there anything I can do?"

"Actually, there is." She popped herself up on her arms but seemed to quickly regret it, as she let herself fall back on the bed immediately.

"I could use hot milk with honey… or bourbon," she added dreamily.

"I'll go for the former," I promised and kissed the top of her head. "Try to relax, okay?"

**Miss Parker**

I must have drifted off to sleep besides myself because sounds of a commotion snapped out of a dream I couldn't remember. There were footsteps in front of my room, followed by something shattering on the floor and an angry voice- Jarod's voice. I sat up and swung my legs over the side of the bed, my heart already beating faster. What I was experiencing during the short moment I needed to race towards the door was less a sense of foreboding and more of a vision. Someone was shocked, someone else was eerily calm. I pulled the door open and a startled group of men turned towards me.

"What is it?" I snapped, as usual masking my worry with annoyance.

"Miss Parker, we need you to go lay back down," one of the two men said. He was wearing a cheap suit and a hideous tie and there was something in his left hand that looked an awful lot like a police badge to me. Next to him stood an uneasy-looking young man wearing the local police uniform. I could feel a knot in my stomach that was not ulcer-related.

"What is it?" I demanded.

"Ma'am, we really can't…"

I cut him off sharply. "I work for the district attorney's office. And not as some sort of secretary if you get my drift… so if you could please tell me what the hell is going on?"

I knew that the absence of a suit and a proper hairdo, let alone heels, had taken a huge part of my natural authority away but it was still enough to make the man talk.

"I'm sorry. We've got to arrest your husband on suspicion of kidnapping and murder."

My first reaction was to mock him. "My husband? Are you insane?"

The plain-clothes detective took me by the arm and led me back into my hospital-room while the other snapped handcuffs around Jarod's wrists and began to monotonously read him his rights. This was insane! While being pushed back inside the room, I tried to catch Jarod's gaze but he avoided mine, his eyes fixed gloomily onto the cop in front of him. By his feet the remains of a cup lay broken and hot milk seeped into the floor.

Before I could protest any further, the detective closed the door and motioned for me to sit down on the bed. I didn't feel like it but I suspected that I would faint if I had to stay on my feet much longer. A horrible sense of dread was making its way up to my throat and I knew that this time it was no one's but my very own.

"This has to be some kind of misunderstanding!" I said the first thing that entered my mind and then realized that it was just what every wife in my position would say, no matter how guilty her husband really was.

"I'm sorry, Miss Parker. Someone called anonymously and we investigated. Truth is we've found some of the clothes Donald was wearing when he went missing in your husband's office."

My throat constricted and suddenly I felt very small and very tired.

"But that's not possible…" I weakly protested. "Jarod wouldn't hurt anyone."

"Miss Parker, are you aware of the fact that none of your husband's information checks out? Although he claims otherwise, he never studied human medicine in Yale. His whole CV seems to be pure fiction."

Of course it was. I had helped him draw it up. He was a pretender after all and didn't need to study medicine in order to be one of the best doctor's in the country. And of course he had never worked where he claimed he had since he had been wrongfully incarcerated most of his life and spent the next years as a fugitive. Of course, I could tell the detective none of that.

"I am very sorry that you had to witness this in your state and that we had to come here to arrest him."

"I'm not in a state. I'm pregnant for god's sake!" I snapped.

He placed his hand on top of mine to calm me. "As I said, I am very sorry to have disturbed you. I would like you to lay back down now and relax. We will get your husband to the station and…"

I cut him off. "Get out of here."

"Excuse me…?"

I shook my head and grabbed my jacket. "Contrary to what you believe is appropriate, I am not going to sit back and watch my husband being charged with something he didn't commit!"

The man looked tired, I realized- There were dark circles under his grey eyes and his hair look flat, as if he'd slept on it. The glasses were slightly awry and the suit was crumpled. His next words were like a blow to my head and I could do all but stagger.

"Does your husband have an alibi for the night of the fifteenth?"

The fifteenth. I knew instantly what night that had been. The one after the afternoon I had had my first ultrasound on. The night I had waited up for Jarod to come home and he had only returned late at night. He had believed me to be asleep when he had crept into the bathroom, a bag of clothes in his hands. Upon initially thinking that he was having an affair, I had later put it down to his having met up with Zoe to discuss his impending reunion with his family.

I suddenly felt sick. If they wanted to pin this on him, they would. I was a prosecutor, after all. I knew how it was done. And suddenly I knew exactly where I had to go.

**Val**

"What the bloody hell is going on?" I stumbled towards the front-door in my favorite checkered flannel pajamas and blinked into the porch-light, still drowsy with sleep. Then it registered with me. "Skinny! What are you doing here?" Her face looked almost white and the make-up was smudged around her eyes. She was shivering although she was wearing a coat and scarf. "Come on in, will you! Before you freeze to death out there!" I grabbed her arm and pulled her into the house, barely resisting the urge to rub her upper arms to get some warmth back into her shaking form.

"Jarod's been arrested," she said softly and I could hear her voice breaking.

I am really not the type to make sweet tea and put a blanket around a person's shoulders but since I couldn't possibly serve a pregnant woman scotch, I did just that, murmuring meaningless words of comfort while I put the kettle on, scooped three spoons of sugar into the brew and wrapped her cold hands around the mug.

"Now tell me once again what exactly went wrong!"

I listened intently as she told me what had happened and couldn't help but smile sadly as she told me how she had pushed the detective aside and marched out. Her bravado, however, faded quickly and the trembling returned. For the first time in my life I was a witness to Skinny looking really vulnerable.

"Drink your tea," I told her and thought of my mother who had always forced sickeningly sweet tea on me when I had been in shock or heartbroken once again. I had always found it utterly annoying but somehow it had worked every time.

"It's fine," I told her, rubbing her hand between mine in a totally irrational need to keep her warm. "I'll call Clifford." Clifford Denton, my law school crush and best criminal defense attorney in the country would be able to help. After I'd made the call and he had promised to meet me at the police station, I wondered what to do with Skinny. I couldn't possibly leave her alone and Christine was on a weekend trip with her new lover in Chicago. Since Sydney was obviously already taking care of Sammy, I couldn't come up with anyone but her doctor. She would know what to do and I had met her around town when we had both visited a bazaar at the church where I had been forced to go due to reelection issues. She seemed nice enough and she would know what to do about Skinny's ulcer problems. I walked back into the living-room, ready to tell her the news when I found her slumped on the couch, having fallen asleep, or rather passed out, considering the circumstances.

I decided to call Dr Summers to watch her anyway.

**TBC**


	16. Part Sixteen

**Part Sixteen**

**_The end is near, folks. I'd love to hear what you think of this chapter. ;-)_**

**Miss Parker**

In front of the window stood a little boy of about five years, as far as I could tell from my position by the door. I walked towards him, slowly, taking in his unruly dark hair and the light blue pajamas he was wearing. Had I ever seen kid's pajamas that weren't adorned with all kinds of cartoonish animals?, I wondered besides myself. The boy stood rigid, as if he hadn't noticed my presence at all so I called out softly: "Charly!" Now where had that come from? With a start I realized that in fact I didn't know a little boy named Charly. I instantly sensed that something was off, something about this setting and this child was completely wrong. I just couldn't tell what it was. After a moment he did react to my voice and turned around slowly. I recognized Jarod in his face even before he had fully turned around and an icy hand gripped my heart as I recognized in his eyes the same hollow loneliness that I had seen in Jarod's all this time ago when he had been a little boy.

The boy – Charly – stood motionless as he looked up at me with his father's melancholic eyes and as my hand automatically flew towards my stomach, I noticed that it was flat.

"Charly," I breathed and lurched forward, aching to hold him in my arms. Though warm, his body didn't relax into mine but remained stiff.

"Baby," I stepped back, now kneeling in front of him and carefully stroked the dark hair from his forehead. Only now I noticed that it was bruised and that his little hands were trembling. "Oh god, what did they do to you?"

His eyes seemed to finally acknowledge me and he shook his head in an eerie imitation of an adult's deprecatory frown.

"Why didn't you protect me, Mommy?"

I frantically searched my memory. Why hadn't I taken care of him? But when had I failed him? And how? What did I let happen despite the fact that I was filled with so much love for this little boy?

"What…?" I wanted to say but only a dry sob came out. "Baby, please, I…"

"Please help me, Mommy!" He was downright trembling now and his body suddenly felt cold. "You can't let them do this, Mommy. You need to help me. You need to wake up."

I reached out for him but he was suddenly backing away from me. "Wake up! Wake up, Mommy! You can't let this happen to me! You can't allow them to do this to me!"

"Who is them?" I asked, helpless, but he kept backing away into a sudden darkness that slowly enveloped me.

"CHARLY!" I yelled with all my might.

"You need to wake up!" His small, frightened voice sounded from the darkness that surrounded me and I opened my eyes wide and sat up with a start. I was in Val's living-room and the lights were dimmed. Someone had spread a blanket over my body and a cup of cold tea stood on the coffee-table next to me. I had no idea how long I had slept but the dream had shaken me. Where was Val? And Jarod, oh my god, Jarod. Had she gone to help him? Had she called that lawyer… what was his name again? The sound of footsteps made me jump and I was on my feet before my tired body knew it. I swayed for a moment, then vigilantly stared into the half-darkness.

From the doorway of the hallway a figure walked towards me. Too tall and too male to be Val.

"Who are you?" I demanded, but the man didn't answer. When he stepped out of the darkness into what little light illuminated the room, my breath caught. This must be Kenny. He was wearing a hat and long coat, gloves on both his hands. But what scared me most were the scars in his face. Val's Freddy Kruger comparison hadn't been that far-fetched after all, I thought grimly. What I had mistaken for wrinkles on my daughter's and Donald's drawings had in fact been long scars that looked as if they had been caused by burns.

"What do you want?" I asked increasingly frightened, my eyes darting around the room for a weapon. For god's sake! Why was I always pregnant when I got into those situations? I might have had a shot at beating this limping creature up, had I not been in my fourth month of pregnancy. High-risk pregnancy, anyway. Damn it. Val wasn't one for decorations and the only thing that might have been used as a weapon was the bottle of scotch that stood on a sideboard next to the door- behind the man.

He walked towards me slowly and intimidatingly despite the fact that something must be wrong with his legs since he was dragging one after him. Although the predator in me recognized it as a potential weakness, it somehow served to make him all the more scary.

He wasn't talking, just wheezing very slightly, which reminded me of Raines. But this couldn't be Raines. I had heard his dying mind scream down in the Centre's sublevels and the person in front of me was too tall to be him, anyway. And all of a sudden, like a blast, it hit me. The broad shoulders and the familiar air around the person that had now almost reached me… it all came back to me now. In my mind I suddenly saw Charles Baxter on the defendant's table, his incompetent lawyer taking redundant notes. I saw the jury members in their box, listening to my closing argument. And then it hit me like a painful hot flash of lightning that illuminated my conscious for a moment in a light that was too bright to be anything but maddening. "The Centre… oh my god…" I heard myself whisper then sank to the floor without being able to prevent it. I saw it all too clearly until my head connected with the courtroom floor. The dark cell down in the Centre's sublevels, the air vent under the bed and my brother who had managed to wriggle free of his restraints while the flames licked at his arms and legs- and his face.

I snapped back into the present with a start and found his hand on my swollen stomach. It was warm and the touch was gentle, which terrified me more than anything else.

"How is my little nephew?" Lyle's voice, though breathless and obviously damaged from all the smoke he must have inhaled five years ago, hadn't lost its typical edge. Hadn't I already known who was in the room with me, I would have known now.

"Don't you ever die?" I spat.

"One day , I will. But I will likely outlive you, Sis. Since you will only live until you give birth to my new project."

His hand was around my upper arm and I struggled to free myself of him, but he was already cutting off my circulation.

"Don't fight it." With that he raised his second hand and pressed a wet cloth to my mouth.

In my mind, my little boy was screaming and my own voice was calling for Charly again.

**Jarod**

Val grinned brightly as I walked towards her, the stale air from the interview room still in my lungs. From my own experience as a criminal lawyer I knew that Val's friend Clifford Denton had done a terrific job at getting me out of custody. He had threatened, negotiated and in the end had got me off. For now. I was not to leave town but I hadn't been about to, anyway.

"Well, chap. Thank god you didn't get your butt put behind bars permanently."

"Thank you, Val. Thank you so much." I only now noticed how relieved I was. Being locked up –if only for the night – would not only have kept me away from my family, but would have also terrified me. Since my days at the Centre I had developed a certain claustrophobia in small locked rooms. I hugged Val impulsively and felt her hug me back firmly, despite her comment: "Nah, nah. Don't overstep our boundaries, pal."

"Where's Parker?" I asked, a little embarrassed myself by my outburst of gratitude for Val's being here.

"She's at my place. Fell asleep there and I didn't have the heart to wake her. Didn't want to leave her alone, though. So I called Dr Summers to watch her."

I felt my stomach sink. "Dr Summers?" I asked, alarmed. Then, without waiting for an answer, jogged towards the exit, cell-phone already in hand.

**Miss Parker**

When I opened my eyes, I groaned with the headache that sliced through my head. The light was dull, but bright enough to hurt my eyes. Where was I? I felt dizzy as I tried to sit up on the bed I had been resting on. Well, resting was not the right expression since I did not feel rested at all. I looked down on myself and found that I was only wearing my slacks and tank-top. Someone had removed my cardigan and socks, so I felt vulnerable. My eyes caught the nasty purple bruise that was developing on my upper arm and suddenly it all came back. Lyle. My son.

Lyle wanted my son. He had called him his project and since he had told me he'd kill me as soon as I had given birth to the baby, I had a pretty clear idea about what his plans were. Would he keep me locked up for five months? I shook my head slightly. He couldn't… There was a syringe in the wastebasket next to the bedside table. Next to it, an empty ampule. What had they injected me with? I felt panic gradually overtake me and rested my hands on my stomach to calm myself. I had found a way out of Lyle's imprisonment before. I would be able to do it again. I just needed to stay calm. But something else was wrong. Something that wasn't to do with the dark room with the boarded windows, or with the locked door next to the bed. Oh my god. How long had I been here for? The thought shot through my tired brain when I realized that my stomach was much fuller than it had been when I had last been conscious. I could also feel the baby kick me once, twice, which was as comforting as it was unsettling. There was no way I was still four months along. I looked and felt like nearly seven. Oh my god! They couldn't have kept me under for such a long time! Jarod and Sammy had to be out of their minds with worry. And what if they would just send me back into oblivion as soon as they had noticed that I was awake? Would they keep me under until I went into labor and then just shoot me afterward? I suddenly felt sick. I didn't have time. Gingerly, I got to my legs which carried surprisingly well, given the fact that I hadn't used them for three months. But I was still wearing the clothes I had been abducted in and I could smell nothing but my perfume on them. Something didn't add up. Something was odd and wrong. There was a searing pain in my back that intensified when I realized that there was no drip in sight and apart from obvious marks from the needle in the wastebasket, there was no sign on my skin that suggested that I had been hooked onto an IV-line. Which I must have been to survive without actually eating or drinking anything for such a long time. I felt so weak that I fell back onto the bed. What was happening to me? What were they doing? And most importantly: Where was I?

**Sydney**

I hurried upstairs, taking two steps at a time to reach Sammy's screams. They sounded terrified and very different from how this extraordinary little girl usually reacted to nightmares. I opened the door to her bedroom with so much force that it hit the wall while my trembling fingers searched for the light switch on the wall. Finally the light came on and I saw her trembling form, sitting on the bed, half entwined in her sheets.  
"Sydney!" she opened her arms for me and with horror I see tears smeared all over her pale little face.

"What's wrong, little one?" I asked and pressed her head to my chest in an outburst of protectiveness.

"It's Mommy, Sydney. Mommy is scared. Very scared! We need to help!"

**Miss Parker**

"You shouldn't have woken up so early." Dr Summers voice drifted towards my ears as I felt her lift me gently back onto the bed. Why had I been on the floor in the first place? I wondered but couldn't remember the moment I had passed out.

"Early?" I croaked. "How long have you been drugging me? Three months?"

Dr Summers laughed, light-hearted. "Now don't be daft. You've been under for only two days."

"This… this is impossible!" I protested. "Look at me!"

She grinned and busied herself with another syringe. "That's the wonders of medical science," she snickered. "Growth hormones. How did you think the Centre produced so many test subjects in so little time? They've always loved to speed things up a bit. Most would call it unethical but it's perfectly safe- Has been at the Centre since the seventies." She flipped her forefinger against the syringe and a bit of liquid emerged from the top. I couldn't remember ever being so frightened in my life while Dr Summers just chatted away lightly as if she was talking about kittens and flowers. "Didn't you ever wonder while you were showing so early? This baby has been much bigger than it would have been without my intervention from the start."

"Can't be," I croaked. "The doctor at the hospital said he was a little on the small side."

Summers laughed as if I had just cracked a hilarious joke. "Yes, that must be because I altered your file a bit. Said you were five and a half months along. Which you would have been hadn't you discarded those pills." She made a disapproving sound and caught my weak arm with so much force that I couldn't even wince when the needle went into my vein.

"I have only been taking those for a few days," I managed, hoping to keep her talking and to find out that she had in fact NOT tampered with my pregnancy.

"I know but remember those vitamin shots I have given you on your appointments? " She smiled and patted my forehead, then bent my arm towards me, holding it in place for a moment. "You'll feel sleepy for a while."

She sat down next to me on the bed and took my hand in hers. "It's too bad you won't live to see how nicely your connective tissue has prevented stretch marks on your stomach. I am amazed. Back at the Centre I was told that it was the same with your mommy. Must be the good genes."

She laughed and helped me have a sip of the water on the bedside table.

"You know, I've always liked you. Even when you didn't even see me back at the Centre. Well, you didn't come down to the infirmary often anyway, did you?" She shrugged and I was too exhausted to reply, which she didn't seem to mind at all. "I've always liked your hair. So pretty and shiny." I felt her hand in my hair when she tangled a few strands around her fingers. "And porcelain skin like a beautiful doll." Her fingertips ran across the skin over my cheekbone indeed as if I were just a giant doll. I turned away my face.

"And I knew you'd have such beautiful babies, too. You know, I was so sad when you lost that first one." She pulled her legs up onto the bed and curled up next to me in a grotesque imitation of a little girls' slumber party. She whispered into my ear as if she was telling me a particularly juicy secret: "That psychiatrist carried you into the infirmary. You were barely lucid then, and your pretty suit was all drenched with blood." She giggled in a nauseatingly inappropriate fashion. "You weren't aware that you were calling for 'Tommy' in your sleep, were you?" She shrugged. "Well, that's all in the past." There was a short moment of silence. "When you woke up, anyway, you had the weirdest look in your eyes when I told you that you'd lost the baby. And I meant it when I said I was sorry." She nodded like a little girl that was trying to emphasize a point. "And then I realized that you hadn't even known. It's dangerous for the baby if the mother doesn't take care of herself at all in those early stages of pregnancy," she went on to explain. "But it wasn't your fault. You were grieving… and that plan was flawed."

She was the nurse. The little blond nurse that had told me with so much sympathy in her voice that I had lost Thomas' baby.

She sat up again with a triumphant look on her face. "This one, however, is great! We've increased the dosage now, so it'll take only a week or two and then we'll have the little one in our arms. Isn't that exciting?"

I felt anger bubbling up. "And then you'll kill me!"

"Yeah, that. I didn't like the idea. You're just too pretty to die. But Lyle wants it, you know. And he's right. The little guy is never going to become a good pretender if he has his Mommy around all the time. They grow so attached! Like Jarod did… Anyway. Let's talk about something more fun."

"Like I am going to beat you to death with a stick?" I asked weakly.

"You're mean, Miss Parker. Don't always be so mean," she said.

"I would be so much meaner if only I could…" I muttered and felt myself drift off to sleep.

**Lyle**

I sat on a chair next to the bed and watched my sister sleep. She looked vulnerable with her naked feet and her protruding stomach under the tank top that was now stretched. Soon, she would be dead and I would be able to hold her little boy and make him the best goddamn pretender the world had ever seen. I would rebuild the Centre, gain back the Triumvirate's trust and become rich and successful again. And maybe the scientists that would roam the Centre's hallways would even find a way to restore my face. They had got Jarod off for now, which had been a blow. I had planted the evidence so carefully- how would they let him go on bail? I sighed. Not everything could go all according to plan. While he wasn't as incapacitated as I had hoped he would be, there was no way he could find his wife here. Not before it was too late, anyway. He'd probably come after me for revenge, but I would see to that. Their tendency to make rash decisions based on nostalgia might be what had drawn them together in the first place. And to prevent such actions on her part, I had brought something else that would keep her calm.

"Wake up, Sis." I shook her slightly and she groaned, then opened her eyes.

"I curse the day you were born," she whispered flatly.

"Your birthday, you mean? Is that the reason you never celebrate it?"

She turned even paler than she had been in the first place. "Oh don't you think you were alone for even a second during those past five years. I was always there. Always waiting and watching." I laughed.

"Bastard." She was struggling to get up, but her stomach was in the way. She grimaced and lay back down when I put just the tiniest bit of force into my hold on her forearm. "Easy, easy, Sis. Here's someone I want you to meet." I pushed the neighbor's little boy, whose name always escaped me, towards her.

"Donald!" she breathed but he didn't dare speak. Good boy. Quick on the uptake.

"I killed his father who couldn't keep his mouth shut after all. Summer and I have been good to the little guy and we promised the father we'd return him. That kidnapping story gave his PR agency more PR than they would have ever been able to generate themselves. But he got scared when he saw his wife deteriorate. Had no idea the poor thing, but I needed him, didn't I? To keep you well-behaved once I needed you to be." I grinned. "So I killed the man. At least I still managed to talk his wifey into blaming you for everything… Well, well, I sound like one of the villains in the James Bond movies who tells the victim all his plans."

Parker had taken the boy in her arms and held him for a moment. "Are you okay?" He nodded.

"So I think I have made myself clear. If you try to get away from me - which you won't manage in your condition, anyway - I'll make this little boy feel it. Are we clear? If you're nice and well-behaved, I'll let him go once I'm finished with him. You know, I don't kill children. I have a good heart, sis." She didn't even give me one of her long, hateful stares, just hugged the child close to her. Whatever. Five years of family life were bound to soften even a Miss Parker to the point of stupidity.

**Miss Parker**

"Donald, are you okay?"

He nodded. "Yes. They let me watch TV and let me eat all my favorite food. They just didn't let me go home. I'm scared, Miss Parker." His lower lip quivered and I was glad I had learned how to deal with frightened children over the past years. Not my own, mostly her friends who were scared of me.

"I'm so sorry you have to endure this!" I told him. "It's all my fault." Why? Because I was born into that horribly dysfunctional family? Because my brother was a sociopath? I forced myself to breath slowly through my nose and ignore the sharp pain in my stomach. I didn't have my ulcer medication with me, so I would have to endure the pain. I lay back on the bed, anxious not to let the little boy see my suffering. That would have probably scared him even more.

I prayed to a god I didn't believe in, that he would save him and my little boy. Maybe even me if I deserved it at all. But how would anyone find me? How could they if even I didn't know where I was? The baby's kick was even stronger now and I felt sick with the thought that they had influenced his growth. Even if the medication was as safe as Dr Summers had said, it was just not right. And what would they do to him once I was dead? They'd make him the scared little boy in my dream. Charly, my son, who had tried to warn me when Lyle had already been in the house.

_Wake up, Mommy._

_Save me.  
_

But it had been too late. Suddenly, I couldn't help but hiss with pain just as I had five years ago, when I had felt my first contraction. I had lain in bed, frightened not necessarily by the pain but by the implications. Soon I would have to be a mother. It had come so much easier to me than I would have ever expected. And now? The fear was much greater. I couldn't tell how far along I was, how much the baby had developed, yet, but I knew that it was too early. When the contraction had subsided, I felt tears in my eyes. This wasn't possible. How much more bad luck would I have? If they took Charly from me and made him live at the Centre or a place that was equally frightening and horrible, at least he would be alive and there would be the faint chance that Jarod could save him. But if he died right now because I was in premature labor, I would be glad to be killed by Lyle. The doctor had warned me when I had first been at the hospital, that I could go into premature labor if I didn't take my ulcer medication regularly. And I had. Until now.

Half an hour later, another contraction hit and I felt panic begin to rise inside me.

_Oh my god, this can't be happening_...

**TBC**


	17. Part Seventeen

**Part Seventeen**

**Charles Baxter**

At first I didn't know what had roused me from my usually deep and undisturbed sleep. Had someone screamed? I slid my feet into my slippers and pulled my bathrobe from the chair next to the bed. I liked to sleep with an open window even when it was as cold as today so the air in the room was freezing. It helped clear my head instantly, however, and I began to recognize the interruption for what it was. I had known from the start, but had chosen to ignore it. But now a reaction was inevitable. I couldn't let that happen to her. We had formed too much of a bond. And her husband was in quite the surprise which I also already felt sorry for. I hadn't wanted to burden him with the knowledge but some people just aren't meant to live peacefully and in a steady environment. I reached for my wardrobe and pulled out a suit, already halfway into the bathroom. When dressed, I checked my watch. The middle of the goddamn night. So be it. I slid behind the wheel of my Mercedes and rolled off the premises slowly. No need to get stuck with a traffic cop now that a quick reaction was crucial. I was gathering speed on the deserted road and twenty minutes later I pulled up in front of Val Cornwell's door.

**Miss Parker**

I couldn't help but moan when another sharp pain had me in its grip. My fingernails dug into the covers of the bed and I gritted my teeth so hard that my whole face ached from it. It had been a while since I had felt the first contraction and it seemed as if it wasn't going to stop. There was no clock in my room and the windows were boarded up, but from Lyle's demeanor I suspected that it was the middle of the night and so a few hours would pass until they would bother to check on me again. Gradually, the pain subsided and I took a few deep breaths. Although I had done this before, I hadn't been prepared for the pain. When you are finally holding your baby, you tend to forget about the excruciating pain that you had to endure in order to get there. Probably a good thing mother nature came up with it since I doubt that any woman would have more than one baby otherwise.

I rolled onto my side, still not used to my stomach, and checked on Donald who was sound asleep, his thumb in his mouth. That poor child had been here for months and his father had been the one who had struck the deal with Lyle. Now I remembered rumors floating around that his agency hadn't been going well and I also remembered that its name had been all across the local papers in the wake of the kidnapping. I stroked Donald's cheek. Poor kid, but people such as Lyle regarded weaker persons as tools to achieve what they were striving for. And it had been a damn smart move to keep Donald here because I was indeed not willing to risk his life by trying to flee. Not that there had been any way. This room didn't have any air vents and there was absolutely nothing useful even in the small adjoining bathroom. Panic threatened to overtake me again. How on earth was I supposed to do this? I knew I had to do something to prevent all this from happening, but I didn't know what. Lyle's plan was vicious and it artfully exploited all my weaknesses. Baby on the way, young boy to take care of, no means to escape. I lay back on the bed and realized that I had to depend on others. Other who probably had no idea at all where I was.

**Jarod**

I was sick with worry, pacing the length of our living room that seemed painfully empty without Parker although Sydney was sitting on the couch, his hands pressed together between his knees. He looked just as uncomfortable as I felt but there was a determined light in his eyes that gave me the slightest bit of hope.

"There is a connection between Sammy and her mother. It is much like the one Miss Parker and Catherine shared. Parker felt Catherine's pain when she was shot in the elevator and she fled from a session with Raines to get to her. I think it is just the same with Sammy."

I shook my head in desperation. "But how does that help us? I have no idea where Dr Summers could have taken her! Does Sammy?"

Sydney shrugged regretfully. "She says that she is in a dark room and that someone is with her. That Kenny is threatening her, to be exact. And she says…" I noticed Sydney checking my reaction before he went on. "... she says that Parker has stomach cramps and that she's scared that the baby is coming."

"Sammy must be wrong. Parker is only four and a half months along. She can't possibly be in labor."

"I'm just telling you what Sammy said."

"Are you sure that it wasn't just a bad dream? She knows that her mother is missing and maybe her mind is just making up an explanation."

Sydney stood up and rested his hand on my shoulder. "I can't tell you why, but I am sure that she is right. You should have seen the look in her eyes. She looked as if she had aged ten years."

"I don't want my daughter to be forced to grow up too early because of all the horrible things in her life. I don't want her to become as haunted and broken as her mother!" My voice broke towards the end of the sentence and I ran my hand through my hair.

"We will find Parker. We have to." Sydney said and moved his hand to my arm. "And Sammy will be fine, okay? We'll make sure that everything will simply be a bad memory for her. Nothing that can threaten her."

"But how, Sydney? I don't know what to do!" I was so frustrated that I felt my body go from hot to cold and back. I suddenly remembered how cold Parker's hand had felt back in the hospital when I had been sitting with her all night, unsure whether she would survive despite the injuries that the collapsing Centre building had inflicted on her. I had tried to imagine a life without her again and had failed. But now it would be even worse. I loved her and I had spent the last five years sleeping next to her almost every night. I just couldn't accept the fact that maybe I would never see her again or find out what had happened to my son.

"Hey. She's asleep again." Christine's voice sounded softly from the door. She walked back into the room and brushed my arm with her hand. Her usual roguish grin was notably absent and the years the elaborate make-up usual took off her face seemed to have returned despite it.

"No news, I take it?" she asked and gave Sydney a small smile as she sat down on the couch next to him.

"Nothing." I said and my voice sounded hollow, but the ensuing silence was quickly drowned by the doorbell. I was the first to reach the door, Sydney and Christine hot on my heels. The door revealed a grim- looking Val who was accompanied by a very distinguished- looking gentleman who regarded me with a look that I couldn't place. His eyes were kind as he extended his hand towards me. "Jarod, I'm Charles Baxter and I think I know where to find your wife."

**Charles Baxter**

I hadn't always been Charles Baxter, king of the mob. I hadn't always been conducting major business which consisted of both perfectly legal investments on the one hand and pretty illegal frauds on the other. I hadn't always commanded an army of white collar criminals and attended glitzy parties that only the richest and most famous were invited to, to laugh into the FBI's face from the pages of people magazine. The life I had built had nothing to do with my past but everything with what had happened to me. People are different. Some react to a live-long imprisonment and exploitation of their genius with the sincere wish to make up for what their simulations have been used for. They try to do good deeds in life and settle down to find happiness in the small things: a family dinner, a kiss from the wife or a daughter's first smile. I was not that kind of person.

I had escaped my captors at the age of thirty-five and I was ruthless enough not to favor a life on the run, so I had used my very own genius to get my hands on a lot of dirty money and gather loyal and equally ruthless people around me. The Centre had had to watch while I lived the life but their hands had been bound. There had been attempts to capture me again and there had been desperate offers to conduct business. I had acknowledged none of them and watched as the Centre's granite took minor fractures until it had finally broken down five years ago. I was too smart and too experienced to ever feel free, so I had made sure I was informed about anything that went on with the Triumvirate back in Africa. Friends in the CIA can come in handy sometimes. And then I had discovered that there was someone else who had endured what I had gone through. Someone who had been locked away, too. Another pretender. They had perfected their ways, however. I had been eighteen when I had been snatched off the streets, Jarod had been much younger. It had been easier to break him. They had made Sydney his mentor. My captor had been Dr Raines who had ruled with violence and terror. Jarod and I were so different from each other and yet so much alike.

And then there was his wife. Beautiful, yet broken Miss Parker, so alluring in her complexity. Mr Parker's daughter who had been just a little girl when I had escaped the Centre. I had felt oddly protective of her without knowing just why. It felt as if she and I had something in common as well. What it was I had only realized when I had heard her screams in my dreams last night. Without his knowledge, Raines' experiments had left me with a poor shadow of the talent Miss Parker and her mother possessed. It was a bit like a radio station that is frequently in and out of reach. Sometimes I caught people's feelings, mostly I didn't and I could never control it. Still, it had come in handy one time or the other.

Had I ever regretted becoming a criminal? Someone who exploited others for a living? Someone who sometimes used a little force to get truths out of people? Well, I hadn't. Life had kicked me when I had been down and I had always felt the righteous need to get back what had been taken from me. But no riches in the world can give you back almost twenty years that you have lost to the most evil organization imaginable. Still, I wanted to help Jarod and Miss Parker. They needed me and I was ready to – for once – not only cater to my own needs.

I had met Kenny – or Lyle, as I had just found out – through business and he had always seemed a little off. It hadn't just been his scarred face and his complete lack of compassion. There had been something else that had bothered me and I had only been able to put a finger on it when in one of my rare moments, I had caught a glimpse into his soul. Or lack thereof.

With sudden clarity, that of course I could not confide to anyone in about, I had known that he had been the one who had abducted Donald. And now he had Miss Parker. My usual business practice was to check out potential associates and have thorough background checks run on them. Kenny had been a tough one. There hadn't been any family history. Even the Centre background he was bound to have – which I realized only now – had escaped my investigators. At least, he seemed to have come to work for me because he needed money, not because he knew about my past. What my men had found, however, was an old farmhouse he owned at the outskirts of town in a lonely area where nobody would hear your screams. It hadn't felt relevant back then, but pretenders have a lot of capacities in their brain to even store the most uninteresting bits of information.

After I had told Jarod the story in as few words as possible, I had bowed my head and looked at him. His face was grim, his jaw set. He wasn't ready to acknowledge our involuntary bond just yet.

"What are we waiting for?"

**Lyle**

When I next checked on my sister, she was on her back and her eyes were closed, but it was obvious that she wasn't asleep from the way her hand was closed firmly around the side of the bed.

"No need to pretend, Sis. I can see you're awake," I told her in the sing-song voice I knew she despised. A thin layer of perspiration covered her face and when her eyes opened, they looked slightly glassy.

"If you don't get me to a hospital soon, Lyle, you will not get very far with your vicious little plan. I've been having contractions for hours."

Conveniently, her revelation was followed by a painful grimace on her face with which she halfway sat up and pressed her hand against her middle. "See?" she panted. "What are you waiting for?"

I made it a point to look bored. "I'll nominate you for an Academy Award, but I will not get you to a hospital. Sis, I regret to inform you that the fire has taken away my handsome looks, but not my brain. Nice try, anyway."

She looked genuinely frightened for a second then shook her head. "No games, Lyle. I mean it. We both don't want this baby to die. And it will if I give birth here and now." Her voice had risen towards the end of the sentence and she was struggling to sit up properly.

I closed in on her and turned the worse side of my scarred face towards her, aware of the fact that she would be able to feel my breath on her skin. With delight, I spelled it out for her: "I don't believe you. And I don't trust you either."

Then I got up and walked towards the door. I would have Summers take care of her for now. My sister wasn't even fun to look at with those pleading eyes and that dreadfully big belly.

"Lyle!" she called after me, but I ignored her and walked towards the door which was opened before I could do so. Summers stood in the hallway, hair in a frenzy and her stupid blue eyes wide open.

"Lyle! There's someone downstairs!"

"You stupid little cow!" I yelled at her for no particular reason other than she had been getting on my nerves for a while. Although she usual hid it well, the girl was a total whack job. Pretty to look at, essentially, but blabbing on and on about how pretty my sister was. Plus, she was a real bore in bed. Always had been.

When I was nearing the stairs, her anxious little steps behind me, I knew that it was too late to prevent the intruders from entering, since in the hallway I found myself presented with an impressive array of grim-looking people.

There was Jarod in a leather jacket and jeans, looking much as I remembered him before he had succumbed to boring earthy colors, followed by Charles Baxter, whom I had done some dirty work for to get my hands on some bucks a few months ago. What had happened to solidarity between criminals, I wondered. He had probably ratted me out. And behind them, much to my dismay, the District Attorney from hell, Val Cornwell.

I had to give Summers credit for once since despite her very slow reactions in the bedroom, she had lurched at Jarod like an animal before I had even had time to pull the gun from my waistband.

**Jarod**

I hadn't expected Dr Summers to attack me so quickly and with so much skill. Her fingernails dug into the soft skin of my face and her knee came up to very effectively hit me in the groin. Next to me, Baxter was pointing his gun at Lyle who was backing into the room he seemed to have emerged from. The house was old and dark and slightly run-down. A clammy smell in the air led to the conclusion that it wasn't usually occupied. The pain in my stomach immobilized me for a moment and I gasped for air as the next blow hit my face. I stretched out my arms and grabbed Dr Summers by the shoulder, trying to twist her arm with the other, but she put up quite a fight. Her scream didn't help either since I had a strong aversion to beating up women. If she had just left me alone!

I struggled to catch her other hand whose long fingernails were about to dig into my left eye when a strong arm grabbed Summers from behind and wrapped itself around her chest, knocking the air out of her. One moment she looked surprised, the next she was flung towards the stairs and took a tumble around halfway down before she could be heard cursing with anger. Val clapped her hands against each other as if she was getting rid of dust.

"I swear I am going to get that little minion behind bars before she knows it." she growled and made towards the stairs. "Pretended like she was the sweetest thing on the planet and then conspired with someone as despicable as Lyle. I'm gonna barf!"

I didn't hear whatever was following because I had already started running into the direction of the room whose door was now ajar. Upon entering it, I almost jumped back. Miss Parker looked incredibly pale in the unflattering light of the dusty light bulb on the ceiling, but what was worse was the crouched position she was in on the floor right next to Lyle's foot, arms wrapped around her stomach, her nose bleeding. Lyle was holding his gun to a little boy's temple. Donald! He was alive! Relief was only temporary as I caught Baxter's exasperated stare. He was still pointing his gun at Lyle but didn't dare pull the trigger since he was using Donald as a shield.

There was a deadly silence in the room as we all became aware of the fact that this situation would not be resolved without leaving at least one of us dead. The only sound was Parker's low whimper as she tried to get up. The light did nothing to hide the burn scars that made Lyle's once handsome face almost unrecognizable. There were burns on his hands, too, but they didn't seem to affect their agility. The amount of smoke he must have inhaled was audible in his voice when he spoke, breathlessly and eerily sounding like Mr Raines: "Back off or I swear I'll kill this boy and Parker."

I couldn't avert my eyes from Parker's now still form on the floor. Had she passed out? No, the quiet moan could still be heard from time to time. She looked different from when I had last seen her. Something was wrong. With shock I realized what it was. Her stomach. She was much further along in her pregnancy then she was supposed to be. What had these psychopaths done to her? I suddenly remembered what Sydney had told me about Sammy's nightmare and felt the blood drain from my face. That was what the moaning was about.

"Lyle, please. Parker is in labor. We need to get her to a hospital."

Lyle didn't turn around but just snickered madly and began to slowly move towards us, careful not to give us room to shoot him. It was obvious, now, that he didn't care about Miss Parker anymore but simply wanted to escape like he had done what seemed like a thousand times before. The only reason he had grabbed the boy and not her had been the fact that he was easier to maneuver and less likely to put up a fight than Miss Parker, who would have barely been able to walk but would have used every opportunity to slow Lyle down.

"I'll kill the boy!" he threatened again and I braced myself for the moment he would have to pass me.

"Stand back!" he commanded and moved his finger slightly so the trigger moved the tiniest bit and the little boy began to cry with terror. Lyle would take him with him, I was suddenly sure. We couldn't let this happen. I stepped back slightly to allow Lyle to walk through the doorway where Val was waiting with a grim stare but raised her hands as Lyle pressed the gun deeper into Donald's temple upon passing her.

Baxter had stepped closer to me and followed Lyle with movements as smooth and noiseless as any of nature's own predators. "I'll take care of the bastard," he hissed into my ear and nodded towards Parker. "You, make sure she is fine."

As much as I felt responsible for Donald, Baxter was the one with the gun and my pregnant wife lay doubled-over just a few steps from me. What else could I have done? I nodded graciously, but he had already passed me. I sent a short prayer to heaven that he and Val would come up with something then hurried towards Parker. She moved slightly when I placed my hand on her shoulder and opened her eyes in the attempt of a smile.

"Jarod." Her voice was small and tight.

I gently took her by the shoulders and lifted her to the bed for a start. Apart from the half-dried blood from her nose, she didn't seem to be hurt and I was thankful for that. Once she was on the bed, she rolled onto her side and pressed her eyes shut for a moment.

"Has your water broken yet?" I asked her and to my relief she shook her head. Gently I began to stroke her back in soothing motions. "Try to relax, I'll make sure you two are okay. Do you know how far apart the contractions are?"

"I didn't have a clock…" she managed. "But I had a contraction just before you arrived and another one while I was on the floor and Lyle was still in the room. Is Sammy okay?"

I knew that she wouldn't be able to relax before she knew and nodded. "She's fine. She is at home with Sydney and Christine."

"They used something on me that made the baby grow faster…" she whispered. "I don't know how far along I am, I am… I don't know whether he'll be fine once he's here."

"It's okay. It's okay." I soothed. "If you think you can get up, I'll get you downstairs and into the car."

But before the car, there was a potentially lethal gunfight in store for us, which I obviously neglected to tell her.

"That bastard flung me on the floor when he grabbed Donald. I think I sprained something."

"It's fine." I edged my hands under her body and gently lifted her up in my arms. Parker breathed deeply as if in pain but remained otherwise silent, as I carried her towards the door into an uncertain situation. The stairs took me a moment to manage with my precious but rather long-legged burden and when we finally arrived at the foot of the stairs, I cursed myself for being stupid enough to walk right into a situation like that.

Like trapped animals, trapped psychopaths become even more dangerous than they already are when they are in good spirits. Somehow, Baxter had managed to get hold of Donald and block the front door, but Lyle was still holding his gun and was raising it, just as I had stepped off the stairs. Had I not brought Parker along, I might have been able to overpower him, since he had his back to me. And with me standing behind him, Baxter couldn't shoot him. I reacted quickly and turned around, ready to run back up the stairs but it was already too late. Lyle reached for Parker and she screamed when she was roughly taken from me and would have fallen to the floor if Lyle had not roughly grabbed her around the waist to steady her. Despite the pain that was written all over her face she struggled against Lyle's grip and managed to reach for the barrel of his gun.

"Skinny, no!"

Val had noticed the gleam in Lyle's eyes before anyone else could. And then a shot rang out and sounded monstrous in my ears. I only had one coherent thought: _"How could I be stupid enough to get Parker into this situation?"_

**TBC**


	18. Part Eighteen

**Part Eighteen**

**_Short but... uhhh... sweet?_ **

**Val**

There was blood all over Skinny's tank top and as I looked right into her frightened eyes, I could see moisture glistening there. Suddenly her face tightened with pain again and she pressed her hand against the floor board, closing her eyes against it, taking deep agonizing breaths. Her free hand felt small and slender in mine and I stroked it with my thumb.

"You're going to be fine, Skinny."

Tears were forming in her eyes and she squeezed my hand back. "Just lie still, Val. Jarod is calling for an ambulance as we speak."

Only now the haze lifted from my eyes and I realized that my voice was slurring and that the blood on her hands and body wasn't hers, but mine. I remembered her brother raising the gun and I remembered the manic gleam in his eyes all too clearly as he had noticed that in her helpless grasping of the gun, his sister had pulled its barrel to point right at her chest. In a split second I had seen the realization in his eyes that his revenge was a mere pulling of the trigger away. I would have bolted for anyone, but I wouldn't have pulled the gun away from her and deliberately into my direction for anyone else than who I only now realized was the dearest friend I'd ever had. We had been lucky that he had hesitated for a moment, so that the bullet had hit me instead of my pregnant best friend. The shock had taken most of the pain away and now that I was recovering and able to think clearly again, it hit me full force.

"Oh, bugger…" I managed between clenched teeth and looked down on myself only to find that Parker was pressing a large piece of fabric against my ribcage. It looked suspiciously like Jarod's shirt which, for some obscure reason, I found hilarious. Chuckling made the pain explode.

"I didn't think I would ever have to tell a gunshot victim to not laugh," Parker said breathlessly, close to hysterical laughter herself.

"Where's Baxter?" I murmured. "Why do you have to kneel over me and make sure I don't bleed to death?" I had never been seriously injured or ill and it scared me half to death that I could not raise my voice above a hoarse whisper. Skinny – not so skinny anymore – could hear me anyway as she was basically on top of me.

"He's busy restraining Lyle and Dr Summers. I can't wait for Lyle to be on trial for everything he's done. Thinking about it, it might be even better than his being dead."

I felt suddenly dizzy as I saw just how much blood Skinny was covered in. It being on her clothes must mean that I had lost that much blood and I could barely keep my eyes open now that I thought about it.

"I swear to god you cannot die on me!" she snapped at me.

Then everything went black.

**Miss Parker**

The blood kept gushing out of the nasty bullet wound Lyle had inflicted on my best friend and now even my knees felt soaked. We both were in such desperate need of a hospital that I found myself shivering with fear, anxiously listening for the sirens of the ambulance that was hopefully soon to come.

I looked down at Val whose eyes had rolled back into her head and gradually closed. She looked as white as a sheet. Although my arm and back hurt and I could already feel another contraction building up, I wouldn't have left my position for anything in the world. Even if the baby decided to make its appearance right now, I thought stupidly.

"I've called for an ambulance. They'll be here in a moment. Let me take over." Jarod gently placed his hand on my arm but I shook my head, close to hysteria now.

"I won't let my friend die!"

"I'm a doctor, remember?" he told me patiently then removed my already stiff arm from Val's upper body and bend over her to examine the wound. "It looks reasonably clean," he stated thoughtfully.

"Clean?" I spat. "I look like fucking Carrie!"

"Carrie? The girl from Sex and the City?" he gave me a puzzled look and I rolled my eyes. "I thought the one who had a thing for artificial blood was Lady Gaga."

"Stephen King! You can't honestly try to tell me you haven't discovered Stephen King in all those years!" I noticed that my voice had cracked towards the end of the sentence and was glad that Jarod let the whole thing slip without trying to determine my mental state any further.

"She's unconscious," he said unnecessarily and adjusted his shirt to press it back onto the wound. "You should sit down."

He was right. It was a relief to finally get off my knees and lean against the wall for support.

"Have I ever told you how much I love you?" I mumbled.

"This might not be the right time to discuss this," Jarod smirked anyway.

"It is always the right time," I explained, my voice fading with exhaustion. "Charly's going to look just like you. I've seen him."Although what I was saying had to sound utterly incomprehensible to him, Jarod smiled.

That was when I burst into tears, but the sounds of the ambulance's arrival tuned out my sobs.

**Jarod**

"Parker?"

"Hmmmm…" Her eyes slowly flickered open and she smiled at me. "I feel like I was hit by a bus." Then her expression changed from mild humor to distress. "How's the baby? How's Val?" She made an attempt to sit up but I gently eased her back into her pillows then swallowed, well aware of the fact that I was about to lie to my wife:

"The baby's fine for now. The ultrasound determined that the little guy is fairly well developed and they managed to slow the contractions down." Her gaze wandered to the several monitors she was hooked up to and we both watched the baby's vital signs on the screen for a moment. The little heart was beating fast.

"Thank god," she murmured. "How about Val?"

"She is in the ICU. I was right, though, the bullet went clean through. She has lost a lot of blood, but she will be fine. She will just have to take it easy for a while. Also," I said and got up although she was still holding on to my hand. "There is someone who would like to see you."

I opened the door and gestured for my daughter to enter the hospital room. She followed my invitation reluctantly at first but when she saw her mother, her face lit up.

"Mommy!" She ran towards the bed and climbed on top of it.

"Careful, baby." I told her sternly, but she seemed well past caring.

Parker, though still lying down, stretched out her arms and pulled Sammy into her embrace as far as the IV-line in her arm would allow. For a moment she held on to her as if she was a lifeline and I could tell from the deep breath she was taking, that she was fighting tears. Since her eyes were closed, I allowed my face to relax for a moment, well aware that it would convey the emotions I was struggling to hide from her. When she opened her eyes again, I had plastered on a smile that I really hoped was convincing.

"Mommy, you've become so big," Sammy said in awe and Parker snorted, but her soft voice betrayed her attitude: "Go rub it in." She buried her nose in our daughter's hair and inhaled the familiar scent then gave me a tearful smile over her shoulder.

"I could hear you, Mommy," Sammy said solemnly. "I heard you in my head when you comforted Donald and when you told Lyle that you needed to go to the hospital!"

"I know, baby. I could hear my Mommy, too, when I was your age." Parker placed a soft kiss on her daughter's cheek and smiled but I could see that she was tiring quickly which came as no surprise since she was on heavy medication. I hated to leave her alone in the room but knew that she needed her rest. Especially since labor had progressed so far that she would have to give birth soon. She managed not to let Sammy notice while she was still holding her, but I could see on the monitor that another contraction was building up. Shifting uncomfortably in her bed, she kissed Sammy's head.

"Little one, will you do something for me and walk over to the ICU with daddy and check on Val?" Her voice was tight, her free hand clenched into a fist. Sammy nodded dutifully.

"Shall we buy flowers for her?"

"You should do that." Parker hugged her goodbye and leaned back into her pillows, panting slightly, as I ushered Sammy towards the door.

"I'll be back," I mouthed and she reacted with an exhausted but thankful nod.

**Miss Parker**

As the door closed behind Jarod and Sam, I allowed myself a low moan. Although labor had been slowed down a bit, there was no doubt that the little boy I had begun to refer to as Charly would be born today. I breathed through the contraction until it subsided then took a sip of the water Jarod had left for me. As long as he would be okay, I would be, too. There was a soft knock at the door and I weakly called for them to come in.

"Here comes your labor coach!" Christine's head popped round the door frame and she walked in, smiling excitedly.

"I don't need a labor coach." I replied stubbornly.

Christine refilled my glass with water, gave it to me and pulled up a chair. She looked as if she was here to stay. "I was really worried, pal." Her voice was way softer than usual and I felt a bit touched. "I'm glad you're back."

"You should be worried now." I made an attempt to return to our usual banter. "My back is killing me."

Christine patted my hand and watched as I drank. Only when she had replaced the glass on the bedside table, she spoke again.

"I have a confession to make, pal."

"This might not be the right time," I said. "If you are psychotic or have killed anyone please tell me when I have my little boy in my arms because then I might not kill you."

I softened as soon as I realized that Christine did look guilty. "What is it, woman?" I snarled good-naturedly. "I am too big to kill anyone anyway."

"I haven't been completely honest with you, Michelle."

I swallowed as she called me by my first time. This couldn't be good.

"I feel like I have been betraying you lately and I don't know whether you can forgive me…"

I felt my heart tighten and waited anxiously for what horrible revelation she was about to make when suddenly I felt wetness covering my legs. I gave a soft yelp, snapping Christine out of her ramblings.

"Christine! My water just broke." And the contractions were closer together than I had imagined.

"Oh my god! I'll get the doctor, hold on, pal!" Christine had fled the room before I could ask her to resume the sentence she had started earlier.

**Jarod**

In the light of the recent events and the last time Parker had given birth, Dr Burton had convinced me to keep the truth from her until it was absolutely necessary to tell her. The growth hormone had accelerated the baby's growth a lot but hadn't been injected often enough to equal its development during the ninth month. Instead, the baby was still premature and would have to be placed in an incubator. It was still too small to live independently and there was a good chance that its lungs wouldn't be developed well enough. Having gone on untreated for several hours there was no way to fully stop Parker's labor and she would have to give birth now. Since we didn't want her to get to upset, we pretended that everything was normal but I had a hard time hiding how scared I was for the baby.

This time, Miss Parker had not demanded I left the room, but was holding on tightly to my hand instead while my other arm was slung around her shoulder to steady her. She wasn't one to complain much about the pain, so except for several pained moans she was eerily silent during the whole process. Her face, however, gave away the severeness of the pain she must be in. The intervals between contractions were short enough and Dr Burton had already announced that it wouldn't be long now when she turned her head towards me.

"You… are a liar Jarod." Her voice was low and not much above a whisper, but it sent chills down my spine. "It's far too early for him." Her face looked as if she was going to cry for a second, but then the next contraction began and she seemed to focus inward.

"You are almost there, Miss Parker. You're doing very well!" Dr Burton told her encouragingly and she squeezed my hand hard while she pushed. There was no need to tell her that she could do this and she had at no point said something to the extent that she wanted to give up. Actually, she took on labor very well.

"I'm so sorry." I told her as she was recovering from the contraction. "We didn't want to tell you so you wouldn't be upset."

She lifted her face up to mine and gave me a pleading stare. "I need the truth, Jarod. I can handle…" She grimaced with pain. "I can handle it. Is he going to live?"

"He has got be placed in an incubator. We're not sure about how well his lungs are developed."

My reply was anything but precise and even Miss Parker who looked a bit dazed by all the pain and medication realized that I was being evasive.

"So you have no idea." She blinked away her tears and focused on the doctor.

"Okay, Miss Parker. One last push."

She pushed and bit her lip after which a small amount of blood trickled down towards her chin. And then there was silence. Miss Parker's eyes were firmly closed and her hand gripped mine so hard that it went almost numb with pain. There was still no sound from the baby that Dr Burton now wrapped in a blanket. He looked worried, just like the pediatrician who took the little boy from him and carried him outside.

Dr Burton walked around to the other side of the bed and placed his hand on Miss Parker's shoulder which prompted her to open her eyes.

"Your son is alive, Miss Parker but he is very weak. My colleague, Dr Flannigan, is taking care of him right now. She is a specialist in her field and one of the best in this country. What we need you to do now is stay calm, okay?"

Miss Parker nodded and didn't resist when I pulled her into my arms and held her.

"What if Linda was right?" she whispered. "What if we were destined to lose him all this time?"

**Sydney**

Although usually hospitals never sleep, the hallways were not bristling with activity now. The lights were dimmed for the night as our solemn group solely occupied the waiting area. Jarod stood silently, as he had just revealed the truth to us. Christine was hiding her head in her hands, Sammy was asleep on the seat next to Charles Baxter who, for some reason, had stayed behind. The silence was almost deafening as we all looked at Jarod for words of explanation that he didn't seem to be able to speak.

He slowly dropped to the chair next to me and like the father I had never been, I pulled him into a tight embrace. We all remained motionless until the sky outside began to take on a lighter shade of blue and, eventually, a pale pink.

**TBC**


	19. Part Nineteen

**Part Nineteen**

_Warning, there's a character death in this one! (And some bad language.)_

**Christine**

Sydney gave Jarod a warm, yet deeply concerned smile as he handed him one of the cellophane-wrapped sandwiches he had just retrieved from the cafeteria. Sammy was already busy munching on hers. It looked big, compared to her tiny face and she had to hold on to it with both of her hands to take bites out of it. I reached out and ruffled her hair affectionately. The little girl had slept through Jarod's recount of the recent events and we were all thankful for that particular circumstance. I stared at the sandwich in my hand and took a tentative bite out of it. Despite the fact that my stomach was rumbling, it tasted like cardboard. Neither Jarod nor Sydney had even started to unwrap their breakfast and Jarod didn't look as if he had even registered that the object in his hand was meant to be eaten by him. Sydney had discarded his sandwich on the empty seat next to him and leaned over towards Jarod now. Although his voice was low, I could understand what he was saying. For the hundredth time that night, he seemed to explain to Jarod that it was not his fault and that we could only wait. Waiting was such a horrible thing to do. I wanted to do something, take action, but I knew that the only thing I could do was take Sammy home and try to give her some sense of normality.

**Miss Parker**

I remember my body hurting after Sammy's birth, but I did not remember the pain being that bad. When I woke up in my hospital room, the brilliant sunlight that was streaming through the window seemed inappropriate. A gloomy, rainy day would have matched my state of mind much better, but when has the weather ever bowed down to our wishes? I tried to sit up and managed after a few seconds, then grabbed the glass of water and emptied it. My room was silent. There was no noise from the corridor outside and I felt trapped in a bubble where time had frozen. I remembered falling asleep after they had taken the baby away and I remembered, too, that my dreams had been vivid and frightening. I tried to pull my legs towards me and sling my arms around them but quickly realized that it was not a good idea.

I closed my eyes firmly against the tears that were threatening to spill. I hadn't even seen my baby yet, hadn't been able to hold or even touch him. For all I knew he could already be dead. Would they have woken me to tell me? Or would they rather wait until I woke up by myself, until I would have regained some of my strength? My stomach was in a twist, but I felt strangely calm. Images of Lyle's burned face flashed through my mind, the manic grin on his face, the determined look in his eyes. Life meant nothing to him and by allowing myself to be softened by family-life, I had ceased to be the woman who could match him. I felt like a victim as I looked down upon my naked, bruised arm that was not covered by the hospital gown. I had been flung to the floor, helpless and unable to fight back as I had had a baby to protect whose life was now in danger. I had failed, I realized, as I ran my fingertips across the skin on my upper arm that had already turned a light shade of purple in the shape of fingers. I had failed to protect my son, I had allowed Val to be pulled into my mess. I had been so weak that someone else had had to take it upon themselves to take a gunshot for me. I was in debt with Val now. I owed her my life. And my son's, if it could be saved.

I didn't know whether it was a mother's intuition or the remains of my heightened sense during pregnancy, but suddenly I knew without a doubt that the doctors could not save my son. I didn't know much about medicine or treatment of premature babies, but I knew without a doubt, that there was nothing that they could do for him.

I closed my eyes again and bit my lip until I could taste the blood that began to fill my mouth. I had failed him although he had begged me to help him and protect him. The superstitious feeling I had had from the day I had been told that I was pregnant had proved to be right.

We would lose him and everyone knew. Tears were threatening to fall again and before they could, sobs, like spasms, were already rocking my body. With all the strength I had left, I managed to control them and reached out a shaking hand towards the phone on my bedside table.

**Jarod**

Dr Flannigan was a sympathetic blond woman who had the habit of burying her hands in the pockets of her scrubs which gave her the air of informality. Now, however, one of her hands was resting on my arm, the other on my back as my world was spinning around me. Her voice was soft and although she was technically delivering platitudes, it sounded sincere and even comforting. Unfortunately, I was far beyond being able to be comforted.

"He is stable right now," she had told me. "But he is on the decline. His lungs aren't properly developed and I am afraid there is nothing we can do. He is very premature and it is actually a miracle that he is still holding on. I am so very sorry, sir."

The baby's skin was almost translucent, his hands so small that they wouldn't have reached around my forefinger, had they had the strength to grab it. Not once had he opened his eyes and the fact that his chest was rising and falling was due to the ridiculously huge machines he was hooked up to. I could touch his small shoulder with my gloved hand but there was not much more of him that could be reached with all the medical equipment that was needed to keep him alive.

"Could you give me a minute with him?" My voice cracked and the last words were almost inaudible, but Dr Flannigan understood anyway and nodded. "I'll be right outside it you need me."

I heard the door softly close behind her and reached down to touch the warm skin again, fighting tears. I was here to watch my son die and I could not bear it.

Ten minutes ago, I had softly knocked on my wife's door to wake her up and tell her the news. The doctors had offered to do it for me, but I had known that I had to tell her myself. It was just not right if she learned it from someone else. When I had entered her room, I had been shocked to find the bed empty and her clothes gone. Horrified, I had realized that she had bolted. Her insecurities had got the better of her and she had run away from the pain once again. And with a start, I had realized that I would be the one who would spend his last hours with our son, that I would be the one who would watch the vital signs, waiting for the inevitable decline and the long, agonizing tone that signaled that all vital signs had stopped. She would probably be out somewhere, drinking, running- would she ever come back? And if she would, how would we live with the knowledge that she had abandoned her newborn son because she was too weak to stay with him? I had stumbled back, unable to comprehend the information, unable to deal with the betrayal right now. I had not told Sydney or Christine. I had just asked them to follow Baxter's example. He had quietly slipped away, excusing himself with business a few minutes earlier. I had told them to get Sammy home, that I wanted to be alone right now. Sydney had hugged me close and so had Christine before they had left.

Now I was sitting here, in the semi-darkness, waiting for my son to die with the painful knowledge that my marriage was over.

**Lyle **

Over the last five years I had developed a reasonably plausible theory: While I had been ruthless even before the handsomeness had been licked off my face by flames, I was now missing sentiments altogether. There was nothing inside me which was an advantage. I did not dream at night, I did not feel fear, regret or even anger. The fire had turned me into a machine. If I had lived a normal life, I would have been sent to deal with shrinks who would have tried their best to restore my humanity. Reality was different. I didn't even feel human anymore. Consequently, I didn't feel hopeless or furious that I was sitting alone in a prison cell. I didn't mind that I would have to stand trial for my crimes. I simply didn't care. I would wait for an opportunity to escape and if none would come, I wouldn't.

Slow footsteps in the hallway made me sit up on the bed and face the door which was now opened. Was this the opportunity I had been waiting for? My muscles flexed as the key turned in the lock and the door opened to reveal a man who I knew to be the local sheriff. Will something… Cornwall? He gave me a grim look and went through the usual procedure of handcuffing me and telling me that I should not try anything fancy. I was amazed. Who would visit me in prison? A priest maybe? Trying to take the sins away from the man who might as well have invented sin? I would laugh in his face and tell him that his god meant nothing to me. That if god existed, I could not possibly be in this world. God would simply not allow something like me to walk his earth and to kill his children without the faintest sign of regret. But since the meeting wasn't taking place in the room where I had met my lawyer, a young duty counsel whose disgust at me was almost tangible, it had to be unofficial.

The door opened again and in walked my sister, looking a little worse for wear. She was walking slowly, as if she could barely hold herself upright and Cornwell offered her a hand to help her sit down next to me but she declined.

"I'll be right outside, Parker. If I hear anything out of the ordinary, I will come and pull you out!" His voice sounded almost threatening and I was sure that he did not approve of this visit at all.

As the door closed behind him, I examined my sister a little more closely. Her hair was pulled back in an unruly ponytail and her eyes looked sunken. Her skin was pale except for a small bruise next to her nose which I had inflicted on her when I had pulled her from the bed and she bumped her face onto the floor. There was some blood on her lower lip, too and it looked slightly swollen. She was wearing a far too large man's coat that she was pulling around her as if she was freezing. She was obviously cold but it could feel an unhealthy heat radiating from her body which told me that she was probably working up a fever. She looked a little slimmer than the last time I had seen her and she did not move like a pregnant woman anymore. So she had already given birth. Which sucked for her, given the fact that we had only got the baby up to barely seven months development when Jarod had barged in. Too bad.

"Lyle." She growled. Her voice was husky, however, and sounded as if she wasn't actually strong enough to talk. It couldn't have been long since she had given birth. Maybe a few hours and she looked it.

"Shouldn't you be with your little bundle of joy?" I asked and her arm twitched slightly, as if she was going to hit me.

"My little bundle of joy is dying," she said. "I went into labor because of the stress and the fact that I wasn't taking my ulcer medication." The explanation was unexpected. I had thought that she'd rather blame me.

"Well." I answered simply and she narrowed her eyes, obviously ready to overlook my lack of etiquette.

"I want you to tell me where you've hidden the drug you used on me to make my baby grow faster."

I grinned. "So that's what you want. You want me to tell you how to save your son. Don't you?"

"I don't have time for your games, Lyle. I know you must have hidden it in the house. You were going to inject me with more so it still has to be there."

I leaned back and laughed. "Sweet sister! Do you honestly believe there would be any way to get me to tell you? You still didn't learn the lesson our father has always tried to teach us: The weakest link. You should be with Summers right now and see whether she wants to help you."

"She's dead. She hanged herself." Parker said from between clenched teeth.

"How sad." I replied evenly. For the first time in a while, something like joy stirred inside the hollow cavity of my chest. My sister was completely dependent on me.

"So you are here to either convince me to help or threaten me." I shook my head as if I was pondering how much of a chance she had. "Let's see. Would I do you a favor? Save your idyllic little life? You know the answer to that, don't you? And then… how could you threaten me? Death?" I chuckled just to annoy her. "Oh, please. I would not mind dying."

"I know," she said softly and I was taken aback for the first time. "I am here to offer you a deal."

"A deal?" I leaned forward and closed the short distance between my face and hers. "What could you possibly give me? Peace? Or your body? You were hot the last time I saw you, but now you look dreadful, sis. You are not very attractive. I don't think I would…"

"Shut up," she cut me off. Her voice sounded a bit stronger now. "What I can offer you is your freedom."

"I would haunt you and you know it. I would try to take your children away from you and kill your son of a bitch of a husband. Why would you help me get out of here, Parker? How stupid have you become?"

She didn't react to my insults and simply leaned back, away from my scarred face. I had been wrong. Although she was pale and looked ill, her blue eyes were still sparkling. She was as beautiful as she had ever been.

"I am a mother now, Lyle. I would do anything."

I smiled at her again. "I'll tell you where it's hidden once I am out of here."

"Too late. I need to know it now."

I sensed her urgency and leaned back against the wall. "How long has he got?"

"Tell me!"

"I might, but you should be nice to me."

"I offer you the freedom to walk away," she said again, dangling it like a carrot in front of a donkey's eyes and I had to admit that I wanted to take it. Jail was such a boring place and I was used to a little more luxury than that.

"You don't have enough time. I'd say he can only live for so long and you would have to go back to the house. How would you do that? If you can barely sit upright, I doubt you could drive."

She put her hand in her pocket and for a moment I believed that she would take out her gun and shoot me, but what she raised to her ear was a cell phone.

"I have someone at the house. Tell me now and you will get out of here."

"I am not that stupid, Parker. Give your brother a little credit!"

**Miss Parker**

I could almost feel the life slipping out of my son although I was far way - too far away - and panic was threatening to overwhelm me. I had to fight very hard to stay calm. Will's face looked as if it was carved in stone as he guarded me and Lyle across the hallway and outside. I did not know how he had managed to keep the other prison personnel away from us, but nobody saw us as he led us out of a side door and into the sunshine. He didn't like this and neither did I.

"Empty your pockets," Lyle told me and I did as he had asked, retrieving the cell-phone and a nine millimeter pistol. "You have not become quite as domestic as I had feared," he grinned and I would have loved to put a bullet right between his eyes that very moment. "You can keep the phone."

I handed my weapon over to Will who nodded grimly and walked away from us. Lyle was still in his handcuffs and now held his hands towards me for me to unlock them.

"Tell me where it is."

I could hear footsteps at the other end of the line as I pressed the phone to my ear.

"Unlock the handcuffs first."

"No."I felt myself shaking. I was not up to this. My ulcer was acting up and I could barely walk.

"You'll never find out if you don't, my love." The familiar sing-song voice, now breathless from five-year-old smoke.

He was right. I knew he wouldn't tell me if I didn't free him. On the other hand I suspected that he would just bolt and run away with me unable to follow him. But what choice did I have? This was my only chance to save my baby. I would not let it pass. Finding out that Summers had committed suicide had been a shock. Initially, I had set out to threaten or plead her, whatever worked best on insane people, but to no avail. Now my only chance was my psychotic brother who would have done anything to hurt me. I bent down and unlocked his handcuffs. He flexed his hands and gave me an almost warm smile, then bent forward to whisper in my ear: "You have truly lost your edge, sis."

The world suddenly seemed to topple over as he pushed me as hard as he could. It would just have taken a light shove to send me to the ground, but Lyle wasn't one for light shoves so I was flung across the empty backyard and crashed into a few empty garbage bins. The metallic cover plate hit my arm then jingled on the pavement.

And then Lyle fell.

The gunshot was still ringing in my ears as I crawled towards the fallen body of my brother. His eyes were staring up into the blue sky and his breath clouded in front of his mouth and nose as it froze in the cold winter air. I dropped the phone to the ground next to him.

"Lyle!" I managed and he turned his head slightly. Every time he breathed out, the tiniest drops of blood sprayed his face.

"You little bitch set me up," he managed.

"And you have lost your edge, too." I told him. There had been something he wanted. My brother could not have lived in a prison and he knew that as well as I did. Claustrophobia ran in the family, after all. He could not have resisted this.

"Tell me." I told him, but he just grinned, blood now covering his front teeth.

"After you've had me killed? I am taking this secret to the grave, bitch. And you can have that house searched and searched and you will find the medication. But by then it will be too late." He laughed then grimaced in pain.

"Lyle, " I said, gently setting my hand down to bend over him although the blood was already pooling around his upper body. "Tell me."

"Never."

He closed his eyes and drew another rattling breath. The scene was surreal: Will was standing in the background, gun still in hand, unsure whether he should approach, while Lyle was down on the floor, about to die. I was next to him, and I could not have got up if I had wanted to. Exhaustion was settling over me and I knew that I was defeated. This had been my last chance, but I would try again. I could simply not let my son die without doing everything I could to try to save him:

"I know you're evil, Lyle. But so was I. I would try to bribe you with some childhood memories right now, if we'd had a childhood together. I know we didn't and I know we were just made what we are by the circumstances. I can't say I love you Lyle, because I do not and never have. But I would have loved the brother you could have been to me, had everything been different. You will die now and we both know it. You might as well tell me. Please."

"Sweet," he coughed. "You're not making any sense. The only feeling I've ever had for you is that I wanted to fuck you."

If not for the gravity of the situation I would have laughed at the fact that this became the last words he would ever utter. A last rattling breath emerged from his mouth and some blood trickled out over the corner of his mouth before his eyes became glassy and his body relaxed after one final shudder.

I felt Will's hand on my shoulder as I began to cry.

"Parker, it's okay…" he tried but we both knew that it was not and would never be.

"Please take me to my son, Will."

**Charles Baxter**

Kenny's – Lyle's – house smelled of blood, dirt and despair. I snapped my phone shut after having heard Miss Parker's final sobbing. That bastard had died without giving the hiding spot away. I walked from the deserted living-room into the kitchen and stared out of the almost blind windows for a moment, remembering the moment Jarod had stepped into our midst and told us about the baby's condition. The doctor's couldn't help and they estimated that the little boy would have only a few hours to live. Less than twenty-four, probably. His weak body could take it only for so long. The sun was so bright today that it even managed to illuminate this dark old house with its dirty walls and cracked floors.

Tragedies like this one were the reason why I had never wanted children or even a woman in my life. The Centre would never give you peace and every little life you brought into this world would be threatened by them, no matter how hard you worked to protect it. Any sort of contact with the Centre was like poison or a dormant virus that would break out when you least expected it and kill you and everyone you loved. Another thing that I realized was that for the very first time since I had escaped the Centre, I had made the mistake to invest feelings in somebody. I saw Miss Parker's distressed face in front of me as I had helped her into her clothes and into the car. It hadn't been a good idea for her to leave hospital and try to find out where the medication was hidden but I had simply been unable to deny her wishes. She had looked broken. Finally.

I opened the kitchen cupboards and tried to estimate how long a thorough search would take. There was not a lot of furniture in the house but it had wooden floor boards in every room just like built-in cupboards and a cellar that was stacked with rotting things. It would take many hours, if not days, to find what I was looking for. I sat down at the kitchen table, defeated. There had to be some way to help Miss Parker and her family but I couldn't see one.

Leaning back in the old creaking chair, I closed my eyes and placed my fingertips over my eyes. As a young man, that had been the position I had always been in when I had been doing SIMs. I remembered Dr Raines' snide voice. "_Concentrate, boy. Or you will not succeed. Failure means punishment. You know it._"

_Concentrate_…

I just wished that the abilities that had allowed me to realize that Parker was in distress could be controlled. I had tried many times in the past, but they were like flashes of inspiration: There was no way to force or control them.

_Concentrate…_

I remembered the first time I had met Lyle, when he had still made me believe his name was Kenny. I remembered his limp, the way he'd had difficulties bending down as he had dropped something.

"_Logic, boy! The world would not work without logic. You can decrypt anything with logic. There is no riddle that could be solved without it. Logic is the key to life."_

Before today it had been years since I had last felt the haunting feeling that always went along with hearing the echo of Raines' voice inside my mind. Today, however, his words of advice were welcome.

Logic. I was a pretender. Logic was my thing. I had to work with the information I had and use it to SIM the situation.

The door opened and I blinked against the bright sunlight as Lyle walked in, wearing his hat and his long coat, limping slightly so that the floorboards gave agonizing creaks. I got up and joined him at the entrance of the room, became him as we merged into each other. I saw the room with his eyes. Not comfortable, not what he was used to, but a necessary evil to fulfill his – my – plan and become rich and powerful again. I walked across the room, the package with the ampoules of medicine in my hand. They were wrapped in a cotton cloth which I was holding on to with both hands. I needed to hide them so that neither Summers nor anyone else would find them. I didn't trust the little prick. I turned around and looked at the room. A sagging couch that nobody would ever like to sit on again. I could hide the package inside the ripped seating. But that would mean that I would have to bend down every time I wanted to retrieve the little package. Upstairs? I looked towards the ceiling with its water stains. No. Once Parker would be there, Summers would try to be close to her as often as she could, so if I hid things upstairs, she would probably catch me taking them out. In the cellar? That would mean walking more stairs. Getting upstairs was painful enough as it was and since I would keep Parker there, I would have no other choice. But the stairs that led to the basement were easily avoidable. I looked around the room. The built in cupboards were far too easy, the floorboards would mean bending down. I could attach it to the bottom of the coffee table. No, too easy. And then suddenly I knew. An idea formed in my head and I felt the mild excitement that comes with having found a solution to a particularly pressing problem. I crossed the rooms with two long strides, my foot dragging only slightly, then looked up. The ceiling was narrow enough for a tall man like me to comfortably touch without standing on tiptoes. There was a small air vent the size of a spread out handkerchief on the wall right next to the window. I inserted my fingers into the grate and pulled it down, then carefully placed the package inside. Once it was in, I replaced the grate…

_The grate._

I came to, standing exactly where I simmed Lyle would have stood, my fingers touching the cold metal of the small grate. My throat was dry. I hadn't tried to sim anything in years. I had used my powers as a pretender to forward my business, of course. But something quite like this had never been necessary. I felt slightly out of breath and had to work very hard to keep the haunting memories at bay.

_Don't think of Raines. Don't think of that time at the Centre. Don't…. _

I reached up and removed the grate. A moment later I was holding the package I had seen in my mind. There were only four ampoules left.

Well, I thought. _Let's see how fast that sports car really goes._

**Jarod**

"Hey." A soft voice said next to me and I looked up into the grieving eyes of my wife.

"You came back," I said.

"Of course."

Despite the fact that I was disappointed that she had run away, I got up and helped her sit down in my chair.

"You're burning up," I whispered. "You shouldn't be here."

"It's my ulcer," she said pleadingly. "It is not contagious. I have to be here."

I felt my throat constrict at the sight of her and our baby.

"How long does he have?" she asked without taking her eyes of the small form in front of her.

"Maybe three hours," I replied. Putting that gruesome reality into words made it even worse.

"Oh my god…" she whispered. "He is so small."

I pulled up another chair and sat next to her, placing my hand on her warm back. I wanted to ask her where she had been and what had made her come back, but I couldn't find the words. I wasn't able to say anything at all.

"I saw him in my mind, Jarod." Parker said quietly. "He begged me to save him and I couldn't. I went to prison to talk to Lyle or Summers to get them to tell me where they've hidden the growth hormones. They could save him." Her eyes filled with tears. "Summer killed herself and Lyle died, too, without telling me."

"I've looked everywhere when we were there. I couldn't find it," I said flatly.

"I know." She was crying now. "I thought I could help him, but I can't."

I opened my arms to her and pulled her close. "Why didn't you ask me to do it? You shouldn't have been outside the hospital in your condition."

There was a long silence. "I didn't want you to be away from him. And he begged _me. _I thought that meant something…" Her voice trailed off.

"Parker?" I asked, alarmed. "Parker?" Her body relaxed in my arms as if she had lost control over her muscles and a moment later I was holding her unconscious form in my arms.

**TBC**

**_One more chapter to go. :)_**


	20. Part Twenty

**Part Twenty**

* * *

_This took me long enough to write! Sorry that I kept you waiting for so long! I hope you enjoy this last chapter and tell me what you think..._

**Charles Baxter**

Jarod collapsed into the chair next to me and buried his face in his hands. I took in his crumpled clothes and ruffled hair for a moment and then gently placed my hand on his shoulder. When he looked up at me, his smile was tired but relieved.

"You've saved my son's life, Mister Baxter!" The words tumbled out of his mouth like the weight that had probably been resting on his shoulders for the past few hours. We hardly knew each other and we were exact opposites but despite all that I felt a strong feeling of familiarity that might or might not be connected to our both being pretenders. Giving in to a very rare urge, I squeezed his shoulder affectionately.

"So he is out of danger?" I asked.

Jarod nodded. "Dr Flannigan was less than thrilled to use a foreign substance but when she saw the results, she was amazed. He is still very small and weak but he is out of immediate danger. We only wanted to administer him as much of the medication as was necessary to save his life and so he will have to remain in the incubator for a couple of days."

"I am glad that I could help," I said, truthfully. "How is your wife?"

"She has developed a fever and is in and out of consciousness. I have been sitting with her but she is delirious right now. The doctors say she will be fine, though."

Now that the facts had been exchanged, Jarod seemed to grow uneasy in my presence. We looked at each other silently for a long moment.

"Not everyone is like you, you know." I finally said. "I don't know how you kept your sanity after what you must have gone through but I kept mine by living my life the way I do."

Jarod avoided my gaze and rubbed his forehead. "There were very dark moments in my life, too." He said after another moment of silence, then looked me in the eye. "I don't judge you."

"When I was in there and Dr Raines forced me to do all those SIMs, I realized just what I can do, what pretenders can do. It was the only thing that kept me sane: Knowing that I was powerful on some level."

"You certainly are powerful now." Jarod said hesitantly.

I looked at him and smiled for the first time: "And so are you."

There was a short silence during which Jarod buried his face in his hands. His next sentence was muffled by his hands: "I don't feel so powerful. I nearly lost my son today and I still have no idea how to make my parents and sister like my wife."  
The urge to ruffle his hair and pat his back was as unexpected as it was inappropriate so I settled for brushing his shoulder with my fingers to make him look at me.

"I could tell you that everything is going to be okay, but of course I have no idea. Just appreciate what you have."

"You have nothing, don't you?" he asked suddenly and when I didn't answer, he straightened up again. "You have never been in my situation because you never allowed yourself to love someone. That's why they couldn't hurt you."

It was one of those rare moments when I really felt my age.

"I need to get going, Jarod. I have some business to attend to." I told him and rose from my seat. "Give your wife my very best wishes."

"You should drop by sometimes," Jarod told me honestly and I gave him a lopsided grin. "A known criminal? Over for dinner at your house? Think again."

And with that, I left the hospital.

**Val Cornwall**

I had always thought that if I ever woke up in an ICU, I would have no idea how I'd got there and what had happened, but when I opened my eyes I instantly remembered every detail. I turned my head to look at the comfortingly steady curve of my heartbeat on the monitor but regretted it at once since every movement of a muscle near my shoulder sent jolts of pain through my whole upper body. The air smelled of disinfectants and there was no natural light pouring into the cube that my bed was located in. The fluorescent lights flickered unnervingly and I had to take a deep breath in order to calm myself. The last time I had been inside an ICU-unit, I had been wearing green scrubs and a mask and I had stood by the side of a bed, my fingernails digging deeply into the flesh of my hand to prevent myself from crying. The man in the bed had looked nothing like my brother Michael who had always had a cheeky grin on his face. This was the face of a corpse and I had known without a doubt that he would not survive his injuries from the first moment I had seen him.

"Valerie?" The name was spoken softly by a very well known voice and despite the pain I turned my head towards the other side of my bed.

"Will." I croaked and he smiled sadly.

"Thank god you're okay." My brother looked relieved but, yet, a little worse for wear. His tie hung loosely around his neck, his shirt was crumpled and his hair looked flat, as if he had slept on it. He slid his hand across the covers and intertwined his fingers with mine.

"I am going to make that bastard's life hell," I whispered, unable to raise my voice above it.

"He's dead, Val." I was taken aback for a moment. "I killed him."

I stared at Will for a moment, took in the deep circles under his eyes and the haunted look inside them. Will had gone his whole life without ever having to shoot somebody. I knew for a fact that it had always been his worst fear that someday he might have to take a life in the course of duty.

"Will, Lyle was the worst bastard the world has ever seen. There is no one who will miss him. I can assure you."

I knew that my words wouldn't comfort him since he was bothered by the fact that he had taken a life at all, it didn't matter whose it was.

I squeezed his hand and grimaced. Not a good idea.

"I am so glad you are fine." Will said solemnly. "I couldn't imagine life without you."

Although we loved each other, we had never been the kind of siblings who assured each other of their love often if at all. Our relationship was dominated by witty banter and the occasional fight over his impossible wife, not warm words and hugs.

"I saw Miss Parker with her brother today. It was awful. They despised each other…" he trailed off and found his voice only a moment later. "Lyle was willing to let Parker's son die just because he wanted to hurt her. It seemed as if everything he did happened for the sole purpose of breaking her. That is why I shot him, really."

Will looked away for a few seconds, obviously unable to go on. He was such a good man. Always upfront and loyal. He always did his very best to ensure that justice was brought about and now he looked as if he had failed.

He finally gathered the courage to say what was on his mind: "I killed him because he was being so cruel to his sister, Val. He pushed her to the ground although she wasn't a threat to him. She had just given birth and was running a fever. There was no need for violence. And he laughed in her face when she begged him to help her save her son. I killed him because he hated his sister and he had always taken away mine."

I wanted to scream out and ask Will about Parker and the baby. She had already given birth? When? How much time had passed? And was the baby okay? But I knew that I had to wait, that I had to let him finish pouring his heart out to me. It was important. And I was his sister.

"That's why I shot him. He wouldn't have got far anyway. We had some uniforms dispatched, but I shot him anyway. I feel guilty, Val. I should have never allowed Miss Parker near him."

"You are too good for this world, Will." I said. "I understand what you're feeling, but I am sure you had your reasons."

He looked so stricken that my heart felt heavy inside my chest. "I am just so glad that we are different. I am so glad that I have a sister I love and who loves me."

I smiled back at him. "I will always have your back, brother."

He smiled, I smiled and for once there were no cocky lines or arguments.

**Miss Parker**

There was a soft knock at the hospital door then it opened without a sound and a Christine maneuvered herself through the small gap as if it was potentially hazardous to open the door any wider. A conspiratorial grin crossed her face as she tiptoed towards my bed.

"What is it, Christine?" I placed the book I had been reading back on the nightstand and folded my hands in my lap, cocking my eyebrow at her. "You're acting as if you were a burglar about to steal the silverware."

"It's the middle of the night," she explained. "I am here although visiting hours must have ended hours ago."

"There are no visiting hours, Christine. You are allowed to walk in here with your head held high for all it's worth."

Christine looked taken aback for a moment then shrugged. "Whatever. I am on a mission."

"A mission?"

She motioned for me to move over and sat on the bed next to me. "I brought something." Christine rummaged in her bag for a moment, then presented me with a silver pocket flask.

"Is that what I think it is?" I asked rhetorically.

"Gin!" She produced two plastic cups and a small bottle of tonic. "And tonic!" She added unnecessarily.

"Christine, I am on all kinds of medication," I calmly explained to her.

"Oh, come on, party pooper. One won't hurt." Christine was already pouring the drinks and handed me one. I hesitated at first then decided that I had earned it. I took a swallow and licked my lips afterward.

"Now that was easy," Christine grinned. "How's the little boy?"

"He is just fine. He still has to spend his nights in the incubator but he is improving daily."

"Uh-uh." Christine trailed off and avoided looking at me for a moment then finally seemed to gather the courage to address me. "You might already know what I am about to tell you…" she began.

"Well, I am not a medium and my enhanced sense is gone with the wind, so I have no idea." The gin and tonic tasted far too good.

Christine sat up straight and pulled at her elegant silk blouse. "Look, pal. You will feel betrayed by this. You really will, but I had my reason not to…"

"Spit it out already," I interrupted her, fed up with the procrastination.

"My weekend trip to Chicago…" she began and I wondered where that story was headed. "I went there my with my new man… you know…"

"The mystery man nobody is supposed to know anything about. Yes. I remember him."

Christine was fidgeting now and a sadistic part of me enjoyed to see that usually collected woman in that state.

"He and I… we went there to talk about our feelings and decided whether we wanted to take our relationship to the next level. Which we have decided we will." Despite her obvious nervousness a note of joy crept into her voice.

"Christine, I have really no idea why you'd think I would feel betrayed by this!" I said enthusiastically. "It is very much understandable that you will take things slow and only introduce the guy to your friends once you're sure it's serious!"  
"Yeah," Christine turned to face me fully now and grabbed my hand. "Even if you know the guy?" She didn't leave me room to joke that I had told her a thousand times to keep her paws off my husband but blurted it out right away: "I'm in love with Sydney!"

I could only imagine that my eyes had widened and resembled saucers right now. "Sydney?" I downed my drink in one go and held the empty cup out to Christine whose hands, however, were shaking too much to refill it.

"Sydney? You're dating Sydney?"

It felt as if she had told me that she was dating my father. Uncomfortable memories of Brigitte and my real father returned and I gave a disgusted shudder that, unfortunately, Christine took as a sign of disapproval.

"Look, Parker, I..."

"Stop it already!" I interrupted her. "This feels very weird as Sydney is like a father to me. But it will be even weirder for Jarod whom he is also a father figure to… which is pretty weird in itself since we're married…" I decided to close my mouth to stop my repetitive rambling.

"I'm sorry. Congratulations…. How did that happen again?"

"I don't know. I sort of just did. We have been meeting up for coffee during those past months and then it was dinner and suddenly… there was this fuzzy feeling." Christine grinned serenely.

"Don't do that. I just had a baby and I am not grinning that stupidly!" I admonished her to which we both broke into good-natured snickering.

"Can I please be there when you tell Jarod that you're going to be his new mom?" I asked when we had recovered.

"Absolutely."

"Can I have more gin?"

"No," Christine said. "Now that you've recovered from the shock, I don't want you to mess with your health even more."

I pretended to sulk although, of course, I knew she was right.

"Can you leave me some for tomorrow?"

"What is tomorrow?" Christine asked.

"Jarod's parents are going to stop by to have a look at Charly."

"Oh, bugger." She practically threw the flask at me now. Good of her.

**Will Cornwall**

"Mrs Hanson is ready for you now, sir." The petite brunette nurse gave me a cautious smile and gestured towards the door to the day room. I nodded and pushed open the door to walk into the surprisingly cheerful room. Armchairs and couches in a floral design were scattered across the room whose walls were covered by bookcases in which rows of books were tidily arranged. Linda Hanson sat by one of the large windows overlooking the hospital garden. She turned around only when I softly placed my hand on her shoulder. She seemed a lot thinner then when I had last seen her and there was an air of frailty around her that reminded me of a very old woman.

"What is it?" Her voice was low and subdued, as if she hadn't been using it often lately.

"Mrs Hanson. How are you?" I sat across from her and, unsure of what to do with my hands, folded them over my left knee.

"Just peachy." Her smile was completely void of any positive emotion.

I wasn't sure how to break the news to her and I was fully aware of the fact that this was actually a psychologist's job. Still, I had selfishly demanded to be the one to tell her. Now I wasn't so sure. I reminded myself of why I was doing this. I had seen her helplessness and despair when I hadn't been able to help or find her son. I had been the one who had had to tell her that the bones we found were very likely to be her son's. I had told her that her son was dead and I had seen the spark of hope die in her eyes. Now I wanted to be the one to give her back her will to live.

"Mrs Hanson, we found your son."

A world of feelings suddenly opened up to my view in her previously hollow eyes.

"Donald…"

I grabbed her hand and held it between my hands as I said it as clearly as I could. "He is alive and well."

She gasped for air and for a moment I thought she would start to hyperventilate. Pain, joy and relief crossed her face in rapid succession. "Are… you sure?"

"Absolutely, Mrs Hanson."

Tears started spilling and she covered her face with her free hand. And as I sat, her shaking hand in mine, I realized that this wasn't just a successful criminal investigation. It was right. And although I had shot a man, had taken a life, this job what the right one for me.

**Miss Parker**

For the second time this week I was acting completely irresponsibly and for the second time this week I could not have given a damn. My ears hurt from the cold wind that blew across the graveyard. My face felt exposed with my hair up in a ponytail and I felt small and powerless in my black coat as I walked slowly towards the far end of the yard where the fresh graves were located. The sky was a pale blue and sunlight made the yellow leaves at the trees light up like fire. My feet seemed to drag across the grass and I had to force myself to set one foot in front of the other. Even though I had hated my brother, the death of my twin somehow made me aware of my own mortality. We had shared a womb and now he was dead and I stood at his grave. There were no flowers. He literally wasn't missed. I could have ended up exactly as he did, I suddenly thought. If things hadn't turned out the way they had, I might have had a few too many drinks. I might have got into my car to drive somewhere remote as I had often done and my car might have ended up wrapped around a tree by the road. Maybe my father would have made a huge affair out of my funeral but that wouldn't have changed the fact that I would have been forgotten quickly. Sure, Broots and Sydney had been my friends, but I had never really let anyone close enough to really care. Lyle's headstone was small and flat and although he had been buried just a day ago, after the autopsy had been finished, leaves had already blown over it. I kneeled down and placed both hands on the stone, carefully wiping them away. The stone said "Bobby" and did not give the details of his date of birth and death. I couldn't make sense of my own feelings that moment down on my knees on the cold ground. Why was I feeling so unbelievably sad? Because I hadn't come up with anything more meaningful on his headstone? Why would I mourn the man who had set out to destroy me and my family? Deep down, I knew why. Because once upon a time I had been quite like him. Because I could have been the one. It had been a coincidence that they had chosen to take him away and have him live with abusive parents. My father had been abusive in his own way, but I'd had the fortune to be my mother's daughter and live with her for a few years. Those years had saved my sanity. They had served to plant a seed of love inside me that had never vanished, no matter how bad the rest of my life had been. I thanked god for that coincidence, thanked him that I had received a second chance. That I had friends, children and a husband instead of lying in a grave like my brother. Dead and soon forgotten if not only remembered for cruelty and pain.

I slowly rose to my feet again and took a long last look at the grave. "I didn't lie." I whispered to the trees. "You are my brother and in another life I would have loved you very much. It's not our fault that I never had the chance to do so."

_Go to hell, Lyle. _

_Rest in peace, brother._

**Jarod**

I could not deny that I was nervous when I popped my head round the door and checked whether Miss Parker was ready to greet our visitors. I gave her a painful smirk that my parents, while standing behind me, could not see and she smiled back openly.

"Come on in," she said and we followed her invitation, gathering around the hospital bed. Miss Parker looked much better than she had only yesterday. Some color had returned to her cheeks and her washed hair fell softly around her face.

My mother and father had filed in rather awkwardly and my mother hesitantly took the seat Miss Parker offered her with a nod.

"He is beautiful." My father said after a long while.

"Thank you." Miss Parker looked down at the baby in her arms and smiled again. "Don't you want to ask Emily to come in, too?"

An awkward silence followed which I finally broke. "How did you…?" I asked but she just shook her head, warning me not to go there. "Tell her to come in."

Though still unsure, I opened the door again and motioned for a somber-looking Emily to walk into the room.

"Hi," she said, avoiding Parker's gaze.

"Hello Emily." Parker swallowed and I was pretty sure that no one except me had noticed that this was difficult for her, because her tone was light and friendly. "Would you like to hold him?"

Emily nodded slowly and finally dared to look at Parker directly, just the hint of a smile in her eyes. "I would love too."

**Miss Parker**

The reception was held in the large ballroom of a local hotel and the clicking of glasses mixed with soft, bubbling laughter and low voices making small talk. The carpet swallowed the sound of my stiletto heels as I crossed the room to reach my husband who stood, dressed in a tuxedo, next to an important looking man, engrossed in a conversation that was no doubt made up of so many medical terms that I would not understand a word of it.

Before I could reach them, a heavy hand came to rest on my shoulder and when I turned around, Val stood there, dressed in a black suit, her gray hair in an interesting hair style reminiscent of Elvis.

"Well, hello there, Skinny. Isn't that a nice dress?" Val spoke quickly and sounded deliberately bored. "I totally think we have to act out of order. This is so bloody boring. I can hardly hold myself upright."

"Be nice, Val. This is my husband's big day."

"And mine! I invested a fortune." Christine had come out of nowhere, an uncomfortable-looking waiter in tow who dutifully offered us champagne. We all helped ourselves to flutes, then clicked them together.

"I bet you didn't invest as much in the research center as you invested in that dress." Val gestured towards the sparkly little number Christine was donning tonight. Christine didn't get a chance to reply as Dr Flanagan, almost unrecognizable with her hair up and wearing a black cocktail dress instead of scrubs, began to address the crowd.

"I would like to open this night of celebration and thank a few people who have made the opening of our new research center for prematurely born infants possible. I would like to thank our several investors and especially Dr. Jarod Russell who helped me research a new kind of growth hormone that will soon enable us to save children who would otherwise now stand a chance." Applause sounded from every corner of the room and momentarily interrupted her. "Please, everyone. Enjoy yourself and celebrate this day of hope with me!"

She raised her glass and toasted the crowd.

"Well, you look enchanting, darling." Jarod had approached us and smiled at me.

"Well thank you, Jarod." Val said sarcastically.

"Well, Jarod. Do you think you could forgive us if we…" Christine grabbed another glass from the waiter's tray. "…bailed?"

"Since your wife is such a devoted mommy, we didn't really have time to be drunken badasses lately. And for today you have a babysitter anyway." Val added ungraciously.

"Come on, girls!" I said from between gritted teeth. "It's his big night."

But Jarod just grinned and shook his head. "You go, girls. You deserve it."

"Word!" Val downed her glass and attracted unfavorable attention from an appalled woman next to her.

"Are you sure, Jarod?" I asked, my voice lowered.

"Sure. As soon as you're not too drunk to meet me in the bedroom later?" he winked at me.

"I think that could be arranged…"

Val grabbed one of my arms as Christine grabbed the other.

"It's cocktails now." Christine announced.

"Can't we go for a decent beer for once?" Val growled.

"You're outnumbered," I said.

"I always am."

As Val hailed a cab in front of the hotel and started giving the driver directions, I waited for Christine to arrange herself in the backseat before I could climb in. I took a deep breath of the spicy air of a summer air and decided that I was blessed. It took a lot of work to turn a life around and right the wrongs, but in the end it always paid off. I found myself smiling so widely that my cheeks hurt. My happy musings were interrupted by Val's unnecessarily loud voice, addressing both the driver and me.

"Yeah, the village idiot wants to come along to. Stop grinning and get your butt in the car, Skinny, we're leaving for a pub!"

"Cocktail bar!" Christine shrieked from the backseat in protest.

And I decided that wherever they'd take me, I was the happiest I'd ever been.

**The End**

_Please forgive the slight cheesiness. It's somewhat difficult to avoid in last chapters. :-P_


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